C~"  —  ~    A    r— 
~u;^.    . 


JINKS   IN    A   CHAIN 

-*  BY  MARGARET   SUT- 

TON  BRISCOE   ®  ®  ®  ©  e 


AUTHOR  OF  "  PERCHANCE  TO 
DREAM  "  AND  OTHER  STORIES 


NEW  YORK:    PUBLISHED  BY 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

MDCCCXCIII 


Copyright,  f8<)3, 

BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY. 
All  rights  reserved. 


C.  J.  PETERS  &  SON, 

TYPOGRAPHERS   AND    ELECTROTYPERS, 
BOSTON,    MASS.,    U.S.A. 


Co 
HAMILTON  WRIGHT  MABIE, 

IN 
GRATEFUL   ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 


LINKS  IN  A  CHAIN. 


LINK  I. 

A  SIDE  LIGHT     .     .     9 

LINK  II. 

His  I.  O.  U.    .     .    35 

LINK  III. 

THE  NOTE  REDEEMED    .     .     67 

LINK  IV. 

AN  APPLE  OF  DISCORD    .     .    87 

LINK  V. 
MR.  ATWOOD'S  WIFE    .     .     173 


LINK   I. 
A     SIDE    LIGHT. 


The  man 

revealed. 


LINKS   IN   A  CHAIN. 


LINK   I.* 

A   SIDE   LIGHT. 

"  A  word  fitly  spoken  is  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures 
of  silver."  —  PROV.  xxv.  n. 

"  DISREPUTABLE  weather  !  —  simply  dis- 
reputable ! "  murmured  Mr.  Atwood. 

He  looked  out  from  under  the  shelter  of 
his  umbrella  comfortably  as  he  spoke. 

The  rain  was  falling  from  the  heavens  in 
whirling  sheets  of  silver.  From  a  roof  just 
ahead  of  him  the  spouting  had  given  up 
carrying  off  the  flow  as  hopeless.  The 
water  ran  over  it  in  streams,  which  the  wind 
caught  again  and  flung  aside  in  the  air, 
breaking  them  into  raindrops  once  more. 

Mr.   Atwood    paused   and   watched   the 

*  Reprinted  by  permission  from  Scrifour's  Magazine. 
9 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


tangle  for  a  moment ;  then  shrugging  the 
collar  of  his  heavy  overcoat  still  higher,  and 
dexterously  grasping  his  umbrella  handle 
close  by  the  ribs,  he  struggled  on. 

Around  the  street  corner,  and  approach- 
ing the  point  of  the  angle  which  Mr.  Atwood 
was  nearing,  another  figure  was  battling 
against  the  weather;  but  where  the  man 
showed  a  certain  vigour  and  enjoyment  in 
resistance,  the  woman  — for  it  was  a  woman, 
and  a  young  one  —  walked  with  a  nervous 
rapidity,  and  an  apparent  heedlessness  of 
the  wind's  efforts  to  turn  her  light  umbrella 
inside  out. 

At  the  street  corner  the  big  steadily  ad- 
vancing umbrella  and  the  little  wavering  one 
met  with  a  crash  which  brought  the  respect- 
ive owners  to  an  abrupt  stand.  They  dis- 
engaged their  weapons,  and  peered  out  at 
each  other  through  the  mist. 

"  Celeste  !  Why,  my  dear  child !  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Atwood. 

He  raised  his  hand  quickly  to  his  hat, 
but  only  to  hold  it  in  place,  not  in  salute. 

Civilities  die  a  natural  death  in  a  whirl- 
wind. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


The  gust  of  air  seized  the  girl's  bobbing 
umbrella,  and  settled  the  question  of  turn- 
ing it  wrong  side  out  once  and  forever.  In 
the  same  moment  Mr.  Atwood's  covering 
swept  over  her  like  a  great  sheltering  wing. 

"  Come  here,  child,"  he  said ;  "  there  is 
room  for  one  more  in  the  ark.  Throw  that 
wreck  of  silk  and  whalebone  in  the  gutter, 
and  come  under  gingham  for  once  in  your 
life." 

Celeste  obeyed,  taking  his  offered  arm. 
Conversation  was  impossible  until  the  cor- 
ner was  passed  where  the  four  winds  of 
heaven  seemed  to  have  appointed  a  rendez- 
vous. Then  Mr.  Atwood  looked  down  at 
his  companion's  costume  and  smiled. 

"  Thin  shoes,  new  gloves,  and  a  silk  sieve 
waterproof !  May  I  ask,  madame,  where 
you  are  going  ?  " 

"I  am  taking  a  walk,"  said  the  girl, 
speaking  for  the  first  time. 

Mr.  Atwood  laughed.  "  Were,  Celeste," 
he  corrected,  "  were.  You  are  being  taken 
home  now,  my  dear  ;  there,  I  trust,  to  be 
well  scolded,  as  these  many  moons  have 
lapsed  since  the  honeymoon." 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


He  looked  down  suddenly  at  the  hand 
on  his  arm,  then  into  the  face  by  his  side, 
where  there  were  drops  of  water  which  he 
did  not  think  were  rain,  and  the  lips  were 
as  tremulous  as  the  hand. 

"  Old  !  Heavens,  how  old  you  make  me 
feel !  "  said  Mr.  Atwood,  anxiously  examin- 
ing the  ribs  of  his  umbrella.  "  Here  you 
are,  a  sedate  matron,  and  I  remember  the 
first  day  I  visited  your  family,  and  caught 
you,  a  little  tot,  with  long  shaving  curls 
pinned  to  your  yellow  pigtails  to  eke  them 
out.  You  don't  remember  it,  but  I  do. 
You  were  a  pretty  child,  Celeste.  You 
might  have  been  a  good  one,  too,  if  we  had 
spoiled  you  less." 

A  great  drop,  which  again  was  not  rain, 
fell  on  Mr.  Atwood's  sleeve.  Without  turn- 
ing he  talked  on.  "What  business  have 
you  to  be  out  a  day  like  this  ?  The  wind  is 
enough  to  make  you  hoarse  for  a  week,  let 
alone  the  dampness.  Here,  take  my  hand- 
kerchief and  tie  it  about  your  throat." 

Celeste  took  the  handkerchief  he  offered, 
with  a  little  hysterical  laugh. 

"  That  is  just  like  you,"  she  said,  openly 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


drying  her  eyes.    "  Ignore,  ignore,  always  ig- 
nore —  appearances,  always  appearances ! " 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  quite  quarrel  with 
me  on  that  score.  Here  I  am  walking  up  a 
thoroughfare  with  a  weeping  young  woman 
clinging  to  my  arm,  and  all  the  'Quaker 
ladies  '  in  the  puddles  staring  at  us.  Could 
Mrs.  Grundy  ask  for  more  ?  " 

"Don't  laugh,"  cried  Celeste  hysteri- 
cally, "  pray  don't !  " 

Mr.  Atwood  turned  and  stood  quite  still 
for  a  moment,  looking  into  her  face. 

Then  he  lifted  the  umbrella  slightly,  and 
looked  out  from  under  it.  They  had  been 
walking  in  the  teeth  of  the  storm,  but  now 
he  altered  their  course  to  a  cross  street, 
where  the  inner  edge  of  the  farther  pave- 
ment was  comparatively  sheltered. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  we  have  miles  of  way 
before  us.  My  handkerchief  is  a  large  one, 
and  my  reputation  can  stand  it.  You  may  tell 
me  what  it  is  if  you  wish,  and  if  I  can  help 
you ;  if  not,  you  may  cry  your  cry  out  with 
the  weather,  and  then  I  will  take  you  home." 

They  walked  on  in  silence.  At  last 
Celeste  spoke. 

'3 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"I  think,"  she  said  thoughtfully, '"  I 
think  that  I  shall  tell  you.  I  am  so  sorely 
in  need  of  help,  and  the  wind  has  blown 
you  to  me.  My  trouble  is  about  my  hus- 
band." 

Mr.  Atwood  laid  his  hand  quickly  on  the 
one  in  his  arm.  He  shook  his  head,  half 
smiling. 

"No,"  he  said,  "the  wind  never  meant 
that.  It  blew  you  to  me  because  it  knew  I 
could  be  heartless  enough  to  send  you  away 
without  letting  you  speak.  No,  whatever  it 
be,  whether  great  or  small,  if  it  concerns 
your  married  life,  tell  no  one.  Fight  it 
down.  Put  it  behind  you.  Do  anything 
but  talk." 

"Then  you  too  fail  me,"  said  Celeste 
bitterly. 

Mr.  Atwood's  voice  grew  graver,  his 
manner  more  serious. 

"  You  must  not  misunderstand  me.  You 
know  me  as  always  devoted  to  your  inter- 
ests. I  have  no  wish  to  learn  your  secret. 
My  advice  to  you  is  to  keep  it.  At  the 
same  time  if  you  need  help,  if  you  need 
me,  I  am  here." 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  must  have  help,"  she  answered,  in  a 
choked  voice  ;  "  I  have  just  discovered  that 
my  husband  is  a  liar." 

Mr.  Atwood  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  incredulity.  "  A  liar  !  Impossible, 
Celeste  !  " 

"  You  thought  it  a  lovers'  quarrel,  did 
you  not  ?  Now,  will  you  listen  ?  As  you 
are  a  lawyer  and  a  man  of  the  world,  you 
may  understand." 

"  I  am  your  old  friend,  and  your  hus- 
band's," he  answered  gravely.  "  Some  one 
has  misled  you  maliciously." 

"What  I  know  I  discovered  myself." 

"  Then  you  are  mistaken." 

"  No,  I  tell  you  I  know  it.  He  has  been 
deceiving  me  for  months.  Do  you  suppose 
I  accepted  light  evidence  ?  " 

Mr.  Atwood  was  silent  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  spoke  simply. 

"  You  mean,"  he  said,  "  that  he  has  been 
unfaithful  to  you  ?  " 

Celeste  lifted  her  head  proudly,  her  color 
rising. 

"  No ,  that  humiliation  I  am  spared.     My 
husband  is  still  my  husband." 
15 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


The  expression  of  troubled  gravity  on 
Mr.  Atwood's  face  lightened. 

"Then,"  he  replied,  with  decision,  "his 
wife  must  be  his  wife." 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind.  I  shall 
return  to  my  mother,"  said  Celeste  quickly. 

Apparently  Mr.  Atwood  did  not  hear  her. 

"What  is  it  that  has  happened?"  he 
asked. 

Celeste  flushed  painfully.  Her  eyes 
dropped. 

"  How  can  I  bring  myself  to  tell  it  ? "  she 
cried  bitterly.  "  I  am  so  ashamed  !  If  it 
were  not  so  contemptible !  —  its  hideous- 
ness  lies  in  its  smallness." 

There  was  almost  a  smile  in  Mr.  At- 
wood's eyes  as  he  looked  down  at  her. 

"  Child,"  he  said,  half  sadly,  half  whim- 
sically, "men  are  not  great." 

She  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  Ah,  you  have  not  heard  yet.  I  have 
not  told  you.  You  know  how  my  fortune 
is  left  to  me  ? " 

"  Yes ;  by  your  father's  will  it  was  left 
you  outright,  was  it  not  ?  " 

''''Leaving  me  outright  you  had  better 
16 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


say,"  corrected  the  girl,  with  a  laugh 
which  was  not  good  to  hear.  "I  wish  I 
had  never  seen  a  penny  of  it." 

It  was  not  a  pretty  story  which  she  had 
to  tell  and  he  to  hear. 

"  I  have  been  reinvesting,"  said  Celeste. 
"  My  father's  investments  were  too  old- 
fashioned.  You  have  no  idea  how  easy  it 
was ;  I  had  only  to  sign  papers,  and  my 
husband  did  all  the  rest.  I  was  to  be  trou- 
bled with  nothing." 

The  umbrella  brushed  a  long  icicle  from 
a  gateway  which  they  passed  to  the  pave- 
ment at  their  feet.  Its  icy  tinkle  seemed 
to  find  its  echo  in  her  voice. 

"Yesterday — it  is  the  old  story  —  my 
husband  gave  me  a  box  of  papers  to  assort, 
and  among  them  I  stumbled  on  a  letter 
which  I  read  twice  before  I  understood. 
It  was  an  acknowledgment  of  almost  the 
exact  amount  I  had  last  reinvested,  dated 
the  same  day  —  one  of  my  husband's  debts 
of  honour.  His  honour !  I  understood  then 
why  I  was  not  to  be  troubled." 

Whatever  were  Mr.  Atwood's  thoughts, 
they  were  not  expressed  in  his  face.  His 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


eyes  were  fastened  on  the  lower  points  of 
his  umbrella,  from  which  the  water  dropped 
ceaselessly.  His  countenance  was  inscru- 
table. 

"  Had  you  no  further  evidence  ? "  he 
asked  quietly. 

"  In  plenty.  It  rolled  up  like  a  snow- 
ball. I  have  an  unfortunate  memory  for 
dates  and  sums.  Each  one  of  my  reinvest- 
ments antedated  some  settlements.  Do 
you  suppose  I  was  easier  to  convince  than 
you  ?  Comparatively  speaking,  they  all 
agreed." 

"  With  what  ?  " 

"The  other  papers." 

"  The  other  papers  ?  Ah,  Eve  —  Eve. 
It  has  been  so  since  the  first  little  red 
apples  were  made.  Child,  I  could  almost 
wish  you  had  remained  ignorant :  the  tree 
of  knowledge  bears  such  bitter  fruit.  Yet, 
sooner  or  later  it  must  have  come." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  that  it  would  be 
best  for  me  to  go  first  to  my  mother's 
house,  and  from  there  make  my  plans," 
said  Celeste,  with  the  same  high-strung 
composure. 

18 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Once,"  answered  Mr.  Atwood  thought- 
fully, "  I  knew  a  woman  —  a  devoted  wife 
—  whose  husband  was  the  most  scientific 
brute  with  whom  I  ever  came  in  contact. 
After  years  of  torture  I  induced  her  to  sue 
for  divorce  for  her  children's  protection. 
His  party — he  inevitably  has  one,  you 
know  —  maintained  that  the  root  of  all 
the  trouble  lay  in  the  fact  that  she  did 
not  care  for  him,  and  they  found  listeners." 

"  I  shall  go  to  my  mother,"  repeated 
Celeste  firmly. 

"  And  your  children  ? " 

"  I  shall  take  them  with  me." 

"  And  if  your  husband  claim  them  ? " 

"  I  should  contest  it." 

"In  court?" 

"  In  court,  if  necessary." 

"And  are  you  sure  that  in  after-years 
they  will  thank  you  —  even  if  by  so  doing 
you  rescue  their  property?  " 

"That  would  not  be  my  motive,"  she 
interrupted. 

Mr.  Atwood  went  on,  unheeding.  "  They 
might,  perhaps,  prefer  their  mother's  and 
father's  unspotted  name  to  riches.  Chil- 

'9 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


dren  have  an  odd  habit  of  resenting  these 
things  in  after-life.  I  have  heard  parents 
complained  of  as  handicaps  often  enough 
to  wish  that  children  could  select  them  for 
themselves." 

Celeste's  lip  curled. 

"  How  civilized  we  are  !  "  she  said  scorn- 
fully. "  You  make  your  little  bon-mots  ;  I 
smile ;  we  walk  on  with  my  life's  problem 
under  discussion,  and  it  strikes  neither  of 
us  as  odd." 

"  Yes,  we  are  very  civilized ;  but  would 
you  have  us  otherwise  ?  Would  it  be  bet- 
ter if  I  told  you  with  brutal  directness  that 
the  world  draws  small  distinction  between 
a  woman  who  returns  of  choice  to  her 
family  and  a  woman  returned?  Suppose 
I  pointed  out  to  you  baldly  that  there  are 
always  two  sides  told  to  a  story ;  that 
tongues  in  plenty  would  say  that  you 
should  have  given  the  money;  and,  fin- 
ally, that  your  children  might  live  to  curse 
the  day  when  their  mother  published 
their  father's  shame  —  would  that  be 
better  ? " 

He  could  feel  that  she  winced. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Exposure  would  not  be  necessary.  He 
could  trust  to  my  silence.  I  am  in  a 
position  to  dictate  terms,  I  think.  Let 
him  take  the  bulk  of  the  property.  All 
I  ask  of  him  is  that  I  may  be  allowed  to 
go  quietly,  and  take  my  children  with  me." 

"  And  what  has  he  answered  ?  " 

"  Nothing  as  yet.  When  I  met  you  I  had 
come  out  from  it  all  to  breathe  and  think 
how  best  to  speak  to  him." 

Mr.  Atwood  turned  so  sharply  that  he  al- 
most faced  his  companion. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  not  yet 
spoken  to  your  husband  ? " 

"  Not  yet :  I  shall  to-night." 

"  Thank  Heaven ! "  said  Mr.  Atwood  fer- 
vently. " Thank  Heaven,  my  dear  child! 
Celeste,  your  good  angel  has  watched  over 
you." 

She  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"  Over  me  !  —  me !  If  I  have  such  an  one, 
'peradventure  he  sleepeth,  or  he  is  on  a  jour- 
ney.' If  an  innocent  woman  was  ever  de- 
livered into  the  hands  of  the  unrighteous,  I 
have  been  that  one." 

"  No,  you  are  saved,  you  and  your  chil- 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


dren.  Celeste,  your  husband  must  never 
know  of  your  discovery." 

Celeste  looked  up  in  amazement.  "Leave 
him  and  give  no  reason  !  It  would  not  be 
possible." 

"  No,  that  would  not  be  possible ;  but  this 
will.  You  must  go  back  to  your  home  and 
your  husband,  resolved  to  pick  up  your  life 
in  silence  where  you  meant  to  lay  it  down. 
It  is  your  only  chance  for  happiness,  and 
for  your  children's  future." 

As  she  grasped  his  meaning,  Celeste  with- 
drew from  him  with  a  gesture  almost  of  ab- 
horrence. 

"Do  you  realize  what  this  is  that  you 
are  telling  me  to  do  ? "  she  asked.  "  I  who 
have  never  known  what  a  lie  was  !  You 
are  telling  me  to  live  one  from  now  until  I 
die  —  to  make  my  whole  life  a  mask  —  to 
act  a  part  day  by  day  and  hour  by  hour." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  passionate  tears. 
Her  voice  broke. 

"  It  is  your  hard  part  to  play,"  said  Mr. 
Atwood  slowly,  "  but  you  will  play  it." 

"Never!" 

"  You  will  play  it  for  your  children  and 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


for  your  children's  father.  Where  others 
love  to  remember,  you  must  learn  to  for- 
get. Where  others  unfold  their  heart's 
secrets,  you  must  wrap  yours  away.  It 
will  be  cruelly  hard  at  first.  It  will  tax 
all  your  strength,  all  your  high  spirit ;  but 
you  will  succeed." 

"  Let  me  understand,"  said  Celeste  in  a 
repressed  voice,  "  just  what  this  is  which 
you  are  mapping  out  for  me." 

"I  want  you  to  wipe  yesterday  and  to- 
day out  of  your  life,  letting  no  one  sus- 
pect —  hardly  admitting  to  yourself  —  that 
they  have  made  a  difference.  Train  your- 
self to  forget,  and  forgiveness  will  follow." 

Celeste  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  could  never  forget.  I  can  forgive, 
but  it  must  be  from  a  distance.  I  cannot 
live  with  him.  I  cannot  be  his  wife  and 
the  mother  of  his  children." 

"  Yet  you  are  both,  irreparably.  You 
have  put  your  hand  to  the  plough,  and 
you  may  not  look  back.  You  have  come 
out  from  your  people  and  formed  a  house- 
hold of  your  own.  You  have  no  moral 
right  now  to  let  it  drop  apart." 
23 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"And  you  think  it  could  be  bound  to- 
gether with  a  lie  ? " 

Mr.  Atwood  smiled. 

"  There  spoke  your  Puritan  grandparents. 
The  Truth  —  the  Te-ruth,  in  two  syllables  — 
a  trifle  through  the  nose  —  and  at  any  cost. 
Why  not  the  Truth  of  Saint  Francis  :  '  Bet- 
ter to  withhold  than  to  speak  unkindly '  ? 
Let  me  ask  you  one  question.  You  have 
assured  me  that  your  husband  cares  for  no 
other  woman  —  but  does  he  still  care  for 
you  ?  " 

"  Can  you  call  this  caring  ? " 

"  Perhaps.  I  know  that  yours  was  a 
love-match  to  begin  with.  Would  you  have 
said  yesterday,  before  this  discovery,  that 
there  had  been  a  change  in  your  husband  ? " 

"  No-o,"  she  answered  hesitatingly ;  "  there 
had  been  no  change  on  the  surface." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

He  felt  her  arm  tremble  in  his.  There 
was  no  answer,  and  he  repeated  his  ques- 
tion. Her  voice  faltered  perceptibly. 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  my  respect  is 
dead?" 

And  your  affection  ?  "  , 
24 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  told  you  that  my  respect  was  dead. 
My  love  could  never  live  without  respect 
to  feed  it." 

"  And  yet  I  have  known  fatally  numerous 
cases  that  throve  on  less,  and  without  the 
excuse  of  marriage.  I  am  not  asking  if 
you  forgive  or  if  you  respect.  I  ask  if  you 
still  care  for  your  husband  as  he  is  ?  " 

The  rain  dropping  monotonously  on  the 
umbrella  was  the  only  break  in  the  silence. 
Celeste  spoke  wearily  at  last. 

"  Yes,  I  still  care.  But  it  only  makes  it  all 
harder — more  impossible — more  miserable." 

She  broke  down  suddenly,  weeping  softly. 

"  Oh,  I  have  loved  him  —  and  indeed, 
he  loved  me.  I  would  have  given  him 
everything.  How  could  he  —  ah  !  How 
could  he  wreck  it  all !  " 

Mr.  Atwood  let  her  weep  on  in  silence, 
until  her  self-control  again  asserted  itself. 
Then  he  spoke. 

"There  shall  be  no  wreck,  dear  child. 
Take  courage  :  you  will  come  to  the  rescue. 
If  I  could  promise  you  your  first  ideal  of 
love  and  life,  I  would.  As  it  is,  I  can  only 
help  you  to  a  second  best,  and  with  nar- 

25 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


rower  limits  perhaps.  But  then  the  worm 
has  to  be  content  in  its  chestnut,  and  what 
are  we  but  worms  ?  " 

"  How  good  you  are,  and  how  you  un. 
derstand !  "  she  whispered.  "  I  will  try  — 
indeed,  I  will  try.  Whatever  you  tell  me  I 
will  do,"  she  added  humbly. 

Mr.  Atwood's  eyelids  dropped  for  a 
moment.  He  bent  over  Celeste's  bowed 
head,  and  opened  his  lips  to  speak  ;  then, 
with  a  sudden  change,  laid  his  hand  on 
hers,  drawing  it  farther  through  his  arm. 
He  turned  in  the  direction  opposite  to  the 
one  which  they  were  taking. 

"  Then  our  first  steps  in  the  right  path 
will  be  toward  home,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"  We  can  reach  it  quickly  from  here  by 
cross-streets,  and  my  first  orders  are  very 
practical.  You  are  to  put  on  dry  slippers 
and  a  warm  gown,  and  to  send  for  a  cup  of 
hot  tea." 

She  smiled  sadly.  "  If  that  were  all ! 
And  then  ? " 

"  Then  the  next  is  practical  also,  if  not 
so   easy.     This   leakage   of   your  property 
must  be  stopped  at  once." 
26 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Celeste  made  an  impatient  gesture. 
"  That  is  the  last  point  to  consider." 

"  No,  it  is  the  first.  Remember,  I  have 
known  your  husband  as  long  as  you  have, 
perhaps  longer;  and  I  know  him  as  one 
man  knows  another.  He  will  not  enter 
into  obligations  with  no  means  of  meeting 
them :  he  did  not  before  marrying  you. 
When  he  comes  to  you  again,  you  must 
speak  as  lovingly  and  gently  as  you  can, 
but  with  decision.  Tell  him  you  feel  it  is 
wronging  his  children  to  transfer  so  large 
sums  on  the  judgment  of  one  mind  ;  that 
you  would  be  more  content  if  some  one  else 
were  consulted  —  any  one  he  chooses  to 
name,  provided  he  have  knowledge  on  such 
subjects.  The  objection  would  be  too  rea- 
sonable, the  condition  too  generous,  to  be 
cavilled  at.  He  will  consent,  and,  if  I 
know  him  at  all,  suggest  that  you  name  a 
friend  of  your  own.  In  that  case,  the  per- 
son most  natural  for  you  to  mention  would 
be  myself.  He  will  not  be  likely  to  lay  a 
reinvestment  before  me  of  which  I  would 
not  approve." 

There  was  no  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  and 
27 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


she  looked  up  with  quick  humiliation  to 
read  it  in  his  face,  but  in  vain.  With  a 
sudden  realization  that  this  was  the  ini- 
tiation of  her  part,  she  uttered  a  broken 
exclamation,  as  of  physical  pain. 

"  No,  no,  it  is  impossible  :  you  overrate 
my  strength." 

As  Mr.  Atwood  looked  down  at  what  had 
been  a  face  formed  for  all  that  was  hopeful 
and  loving,  and  saw  it  now,  twisted  with 
emotion,  his  eyebrows  contracted,  and  a 
curious  deep  cleft  grew  between  them.  He 
spoke  with  extreme  gentleness  :  — 

"  Celeste,  if  there  were  any  other  way  in 
the  world,  I  should  never  insist  on  one 
which  is  so  repugnant  to  you,  but  there  is  no 
other.  If  you  destroy  your  husband's  be- 
lief in  your  belief  in  him,  you  rob  him  of 
anything  to  live  up  to  in  life.  When  you 
withdraw  the  copestone  of  his  self-respect, 
you  set  that  of  his  ruin.  He  could  never 
look  you  in  the  face  again.  You  would 
lose  everything  and  gain  nothing.  Your 
strength  is  to  sit  still.  And  besides  "  — 

He  paused  and  hesitated,  then  smiled  the 
kindly,  half-whimsical  smile  peculiar  to  him. 
28 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  may  as  well  say  it.  Suppose,  to-day, 
every  loving  wife  in  the  world  confessed  to 
her  husband  the  exact  estimate  at  which 
she  rated  his  characteristics  in  the  tribunal 
of  her  secret  soul,  how  many  homes  would 
be  left  standing  to-morrow  do  you  think  ? 
We  demand  that  our  women  admire  us, 
Celeste.  It  is  an  innocent  vanity,  but  I 
wonder  if  you  know  how  deep  its  roots  are  ?" 

Again  Celeste  smiled  sadly. 

"  You  have  conquered  once  more,"  she 
said,  sighing,  "  and  none  too  soon.  There 
are  my  doorsteps.  Yes,  I  will  try,  and  if  I 
fail,  or  if  I  succeed,  I  shall  be  ever  grateful 
to  you." 

"  You  will  not  fail.  Nature  did  not  give 
you  that  prominent  little  chin  for  nothing, 
my  child." 

"  No,"  she  answered  thoughtfully,  "  I 
think  that  I  shall  not  fail." 

They  walked  up  the  wet  marble  steps  in 
silence.  Mr.  Atwood  rang  the  bell,  and 
they  stood  in  the  sheltered  vestibule,  with 
that  strangeness  already  creeping  in  which 
must  come  sooner  or  later  after  hearts  have 
been  laid  open. 

29 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  There  is  one  thing  more,"  said  Mr. 
Atwood  ;  "  all  that  has  been  said  by  you  to 
me  and  by  me  to  you  under  this  circle  of 
gingham  must  be  closed  with  its  closing  — 
and  forever.  I  shall  never  refer  to  it  again, 
nor  must  you." 

"  I  understand,"  she  answered  simply. 

The  servant's  footsteps  sounded  within, 
coming  down  the  hallway  toward  the  door. 
Celeste  held  out  her  hand,  and  as  he  took 
it  in  his,  with  a  gesture  which  had  no  touch 
of  gallantry  in  it,  Mr.  Atwood  raised  it  to 
his  lips. 

"  You  will  succeed,"  he  repeated.  The 
door  opened  —  the  harness  of  convention- 
ality was  adjusted. 

"  You  will  come  in  ?  "  said  Celeste,  with 
an  interrogation  which  meant  nothing. 

"  No,"  he  responded  in  the  same  manner, 
"  not  now.  Remember,  Celeste,  dry  shoes 
and  a  warm  gown  and  a  cup  of  hot  tea." 

"  I  shall  forget  nothing." 

He  hurried  her  gently  through  the  open 
door. 

"  And  you  are  not  to  stand  in  the  draught, 
either,"  he  added,  smiling.  "Farewell""  — 

30 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Farewell,"  she  replied.  Her  lips  opened 
as  if  she  would  have  spoken  further,  but 
the  door  was  closed. 

Mr.  Atwood  stood  for  a  moment  on  the 
doorsteps  outside.  His  lower  lip  was  caught 
between  his  teeth,  and  the  upper  one  curled 
slightly.  The  same  curious  cleft  appeared 
between  his  brows. 

"  No,  I  shall  never  forgive  him,"  he  mut- 
tered as  he  descended  the  steps ;  "  never 
—  but  you  will.  It  was  not  about  a  woman 
that  he  lied  to  you." 


LINK  II. 
HIS    I.    O.    U. 


The  chain 

twists. 


LINK  II.* 

HIS    I.    O.    U. 

Dramatis  Persona:    MR.    ATWOOD   and 
ALINE,  his  ward. 

Time :  A  first  of  April.     Morning. 

ACT   I. 

The  curtain  rises  on  a  lawyer's  office,  the 
walls  lined  with  sad-colored  books,  the 
shelves  tipped  with  dark  green  leather  and 
brass-headed  tacks,  once  bright,  but  now 
succumbing  to  the  prevailing  neutral  tint. 
The  heavy  mahogany  chairs  are  covered 
with  the  same  dark  leather.  The  green 
felt  top  of  the  desk  at  which  MR.  ATWOOD 
is  discovered  sitting  is  black  where  the  ink 
spots  are  new,  rusty  where  they  are  old, 
and  half  covered  by  papers  and  pamphlets. 

*  Reprinted  by  permission  from  Scr  titter's  Magazine. 

35 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


The  April  sunshine  sifts  in  through  an 
open  window  at  the  left  of  the  desk,  and 
falls  on  a  deep  chair  placed  there.  A  door 
at  the  back  of  the  room  opens  softly. 

(Enter  ALINE,  dressed  as  a  school-girl.  She 
moves  timidly  across  the  floor,  and 
pauses  before  the  desk.) 

Aline.  I  knew  you  would  not  be  very 
angry  with  me.  Are  you  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (looking  up  with  a  start,  and 
dropping  his  pen).  Aline! 

Aline  (tremulously).    Are  you  very  angry  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (thrusting  back  his  chair  and 
rising).  Angry,  my  dear  child  !  No.  (He 
moves  to  her  side,  taking  her  hand  in  both 
his.)  But  why  did  you  not  send  for  me  to 
come  to  you  ?  And  we  must  not  leave 
Madame  Armand  outside  in  this  fashion. 
(He  walks  toward  the  door  as  he  speaks.) 

Aline  (Jiurriedly).  You  needn't  look  for 
her.  She's  not  there.  I  —  I  have  run 
away. 

Mr.  Atwood  (turning  sharply,  his   hand 
still  on  the  lock).     What ! 
36 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  (faintly).     I  have  run  away. 

Mr.  Atwood  (opening  the  door,  throws  a 
hasty  direction  into  the  outer  room}.  Admit 
no  one.  Engaged  on  important  business. 
No  one,  you  understand.  (ALINE  stands 
alone  by  the  desk.  She  shrinks  back  as  MR. 
ATWOOD  closes  the  door  and  approaches  her?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (reassuringly).  What  is  it, 
my  child  ?  What  has  happened  ? 

Aline  (gaspingly).     Nothing. 

Mr.  Atwood.     You  must  not  be  afraid 
tell  me.     I  am  not  angry,  my  dear. 

Aline  (raising  her  hand  to  her  throat  and 
compressing  it  slightly).  I  wouldn't  speak  to 
me  in  that  way,  if  I  were  you. 

Mr.  Atwood.     I  did  not  mean  to  be  stern. 

Aline.  I  didn't  think  you  were.  I  meant 
that  if  you  speak  to  me  so  kindly,  I  shall 
cry,  and  I  don't  want  to.  (MR.  ATWOOD 
draws  her  hand  from  her  throat  and  holds  it 
in  his,  stroking  it  soothingly} 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling).  Shall  I  scold  you, 
then  ?  If  nothing  has  happened,  I  am 
afraid  that  is  your  guardian's  duty. 

Aline  (glancing  tip  quickly).     If  you  scold 
me,  I  shall  surely  cry. 
37 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood.  Then  I  had  better  say 
nothing  about  it  just  now.  How  did  you 
find  your  way  to  my  office  ? 

Aline.  I  knew  your  address,  and  I  came 
in  a  cab. 

Mr.  Atwood.     Alone  ! 

Aline.     Why  not  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (anxiously).  My  child,  that 
must  not  happen  again.  Send  for  me,  and 
I  will  come  to  you  at  any  hour  of  'the  day 
or  night.  You  know  that. 

Aline.  I  did  not  think  you  would  mind 
the  cab.  I  was  not  afraid. 

Mr.  Atwood.  But  I  am.  Tell  me,  what 
will  Madame  Armand  say  when  she  knows 
that  you  have  run  away  from  her  to  your 
stern  guardian  ? 

Aline.     You  are  not  stern. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Ah,  you  do  not  know  me. 
I  am  going  to  be  very  stern  now. 

Aline  (with  a  quick  glance}.  You  couldn't. 
(She  smiles?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling  also,  and  shaking  his 
head}.     No,  I'm  afraid  you  are  right.     But 
you  have  not  yet  told  me  what  Madame  Ar- 
mand is  going  to  say  to  this  escapade  ? 
38 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline.  Nothing  —  she  won't  know.  I 
slipped  away  so  cleverly. 

Mr.  Atwood  (cautiously}.  Then  you  did 
not  mean  to  run  away  for  good  ? 

Aline  (laughing).  Oh,  no  ;  did  you  think 
so  ?  I  only  wanted  to  see  you  quite  alone. 
I  had  something  to  say  to  you. 

Mr.  Atwood  (with  a  breath  of  relief}. 
Ah!  Shall  you  be  afraid  when  you  go 
back  to  Madame  Armand,  if  she  should 
find  you  out,  Aline  ? 

Aline.     No-o.     But  she  won't. 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have 
to  take  her  into  our  confidence,  my  child. 

Aline.    You  are  not  going  to  tell  her  of  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  am  going  to  take  you 
back  to  her  myself.  But  she  shall  say 
nothing  to  you.  I  promise  you  that.  I 
will  come  to  the  school  to-night,  and  you 
shall  then  see  me  entirely  alone,  and  tell 
me  all  you  want ;  but  I  must  take  you  back 
to  Madame  Armand  —  and  at  once,  Aline  ! 

Aline.     You  are  going  to  drive  me  away  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.     I  am  going  to  drive  you 
away  in  a  carriage,  with  myself  on  the  seat 
beside  you,  that's  all. 
39 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  {passionately  withdrawing  from 
him}.  If  you  send  me  away  now,  I  will 
never  come  back  to  you.  I  am  not  a  baby. 
I  won't  be  taken  home  by  my  hand,  and 
have  my  nurse  told  not  to  scold  me.  I  am 
going  back  alone.  (As  she  reaches  the  door 
MR.  ATWOOD  follows  and  detains  /ier.) 

Mr.  Atwood  {gravely).  Stay,  Aline.  I 
will  listen  now,  my  dear.  (She  resists  for  a 
moment,  but  is  conquered  by  a  flood  of  excited 
tears.  MR.  ATWOOD  leads  her  to  the  arm- 
chair by  the  window?) 

Mr.  Atwood.     Sit  here  and  rest,  first. 

Aline  {rubbing  her  eyes  with  her  hands 
childishly).  May  I  take  off  my  h-hat  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  Of  course  you  may.  See, 
here  is  my  chair  close  by  yours,  and  here 
am  I  in  it.  Now,  what  is  it  ?  (He  unties 
her  ribbons,  lays  the  hat  on  the  floor,  and 
seats  himself  in  a  chair  near  ALINE.) 

Aline  (still  brokenly).  I  want  to  know 
what  you  are  going  to  do  with  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.      Do  with  you  ? 

Aline.  Yes ;  you  are  not  going  to  do 
what  Madame  Armand  says,  are  you  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.     What  does  she  say  ? 
40 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  (indignantly).  That  I  am  to  spend 
next  winter  with  her,  and  that  she  is  to 
take  me  out  into  what  she  calls  "  de  vorld  " 
—  and  that  you  said  so. 

Mr.  Atwood  (frowning  slightly) .  Madame 
Armand  should  have  let  me  tell  you  my 
plans.  Why  do  you  object,  Aline  ? 

Aline.     Then  you  did  say  it. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Madame  Armand  knows 
the  world,  and  could  show  it  to  you  very 
well  and  pleasantly.  She  has  done  so  with 
many  other  girls.  And  you  like  her,  do 
you  not  ?  I  thought  so. 

Aline.  I  have  not  minded  learning  from 
her,  but  is  that  to  be  my  home  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  It  has  been  your  home  for 
many  years.  You  called  it  that  just  now 
yourself. 

Aline.  She  can't  even  say  home  in  her 
language.  That's  not  a  home.  It's  only 
the  place  I  live. 

Mr.  Atwood.     Doesn't  that  mean  home  ? 

Aline  (reproachfully).  You  know  it  does 
not. 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling).  No,  not  always, 
I  admit.  I  have  no  home  myself,  you 
41 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


know,  outside  of  my  club.     But  I  thought 
you  were  happy  with  Madame  Armand. 

Aline.  I  was  quite  willing  to  go  to 
school  to  her,  but  next  year  will  be  differ- 
ent. I  shall  be  a  woman  then,  and  I  did 
not  think  I  should  have  to  wait  longer  than 
that. 

Mr.  Atwood  (perplexed}.     For  what  ? 

Aline.     To  live  with  you. 

Mr.  Atwood.     With  me,  my  dear! 

Aline.  If  I  had  known  only  Madame 
Armand,  it  would  have  satisfied  me,  I  sup- 
pose, but  I  was  seeing  you  always,  and 
always  looking  forward  to  our  living  to- 
gether. You  surely  remember  our  plans  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (after  a  moment's  silence). 
Tell  me  them  over  again,  Aline. 

Aline  (surprised}.  Why,  you  used  to  be 
saying  it  over  and  over  again  whenever  you 
came  to  see  me.  You  used  to  say  we 
should  live  together  in  a  little  house,  and 
that  you  would  never  marry,  and  I  should 
keep  the  house  for  you.  Surely  you  have 
not  forgotten  ! 

Mr.  Atwood.     When  and  where  did  we 
last  speak  of  that,  Aline  ? 
42 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline.  In  the  garden  at  Madame  s  sum- 
mer home.  You  were  sitting  on  a  bench, 
and  you  lifted  me  on  your  knee,  and  we 
even  decided  on  our  furniture. 

Mr.  Atwood  (rising,  and  looking  out  of  the 
window,  his  back  to  ALINE).  And  you  never 
remember  my  saying  this  after  you  grew 
too  old  to  be  perched  on  my  knee  ? 

Aline.  No,  but  I  never  forgot  it.  That 
has  always  been  home  to  me.  Why  don't 
you  speak  to  me  ?  I  believe  you  don't  want 
me. 

Mr.  Atwood  (turning  quickly).  Dear  child, 
you  must  never  think  that.  (He  rests  his 
hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair,  looking  down 
at  her.)  How  can  I  make  you  understand  ? 
You  know  about  as  much  of  the  world  as 
the  roar  of  life  out  there  in  the  street  might 
tell  you,  and  that  is  all. 

Aline  (eagerly).  You  could  teach  it  to 
me  —  and  far  better  than  Madame  Armand. 

Mr.  Atwood.  No ;  here  I  have  only  a 
tiny  corner  of  life  to  show  you,  and  see 
how  I  stammer  and  stutter  over  it.  (He 
seats  himself  again  by  ALINE,  and  covers  her 
hands,  which  lie  in  her  lap,  with  his  own.) 

43 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Tell  me,  my  dear,  did  you  ever  see  just  such 
a  household  as  you  describe  ?  Did  you 
ever  hear  or  read  of  one  ?  Run  over  your 
schoolmates'  lives  —  what  became  of  them 
as  they  went  out  from  the  school  ? 

Aline  (sadly).  That  is  not  the  same 
thing.  They  all  had  a  father  or  a  mother 
to  go  to,  or  at  least  an  uncle  or  an  aunt. 
I  have  never  had  any  one  but  you,  and  now 
I  do  think  you  don't  want  me.  (She  tries 
to  withdraw  her  hands.  MR.  ATWOOD  holds 
them  fast.} 

Mr.  Atwood  (earnestly).  Aline,  I  do  want 
you.  What  would  give  me  greater  happi- 
ness than  to  keep  you  with  me  always,  and 
have  you  care  for  me,  and  I  for  you?  I 
have  no  home  either,  you  know.  Do  you 
suppose  I  am  never  lonely?  Remember 
all  that,  and  then  realize  how  hard  it  must 
be  for  me  to  say  no. 

Aline  (tearfully).  Then  what  makes  you 
say  it  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (very  gently].  Think  a  mo- 
ment, dear  child.  I  am  an  old  man  to  you, 
but  the  world  still  calls  me  young  ;  and  you 
are  a  child  to  me,  but  the  world  would  call 
44 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


you  a  woman.  We  are  too  young  and  too 
old,  and  we  cannot  possibly  stretch  out  the 
years  between  us,  try  as  we  might.  Do  you 
understand  now  ?  Look  about  your  own 
small  world,  and  you  will  see  that  kind  of 
household  only  belonging  to  married  people. 

Aline  (sobbing).  Then  why  don't  you 
marry  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (dropping  A  LINE'S  hands  and 
rising  hastily].  My  dear  child  (fie  continues 
with  effort},  I  must  have  done  very  wrongly, 
but  it  was  without  intention  to  deceive  or 
play  on  your  feelings.  I  drew  a  pathetic 
picture  of  a  homeless  life  which  does  not 
exist,  and  of  a  loneliness  which  is  not  mine. 
I  am  neither  lonely  nor  unhappy.*  I  am 
not  even  uncomfortable,  and  you  must  not 
feel  sorry  for  me,  Aline.  (ALINE  sobs  on, 
and  MR.  ATWOOD  continues  entreatingly^) 
Suppose  I  were  to  marry  you,  my  dear. 
Can't  you  see  that  I  should  be  doing  a  very 
wicked  thing  ?  ' 

Aline  (brushing  away  her  tears].     No,  you 
would  not  be  wicked.     If  you  knew  how  I 
hated  the  thought  of  being  with  Madame 
Armand,  you  wouldn't  say  so. 
45 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood  (his  expression  relaxing  sud- 
denly into  relief  and  amusement}.  Child, 
what  an  unnecessary  scare  you  gave  me. 
Come,  dry  your  eyes,  and  we  will  talk  it  all 
over.  What  a  watery  little  woman  it  is  ! 
See  how  you  have  tear-stained  your  white 
glove.  It  is  quite  wet.  Let  me  pull  it  off 
for  you.  (He  sits  down  again  and  draws  her 
glove  from  her  hand,  finger  by  finger?)  Now 
we  will  talk  this  all  out  comfortably,  and 
leave  nothing  to  think  of  afterward.  Did 
you  suppose  I  could  be  tempted  into  rob- 
bing baby  carriages  ?  And  what  a  baby 
you  are,  Aline  ! 

Aline  (with  dignity).  I  shall  be  eighteen 
very  soon. 

Mr.  Atwood.  And  I  shall  be  two  score 
in  a  few  years.  How  would  you  like  be- 
ing hampered  with  a  gray-haired  husband 
then? 

Aline.     I  should  like  it  dearly. 

Mr.  Atwood  (hastily).  You  don't  know 
what  you  would  like  when  you  are  a  woman. 
Do  you  know  what  even  my  best  friends 
would  say  ?  That  I  had  kept  a  little  heir- 
ess in  a  pill-box,  and  married  her  before 
46 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


she  had  a  chance  to  peep  out ;  and  it  would 
be  quite  true. 

Aline  (impatiently).  If  having  money  is 
only  to  make  me  unhappy,  I  shall  give  it 
all  to  Madame  Armand  the  day  I  come  of 
age. 

Mr.  Atwood  (gravely).  Even  then,  my 
child,  it  would  not  be  honourable  for  me  to 
marry  you. 

Aline  (reproachfully).  And  you  care 
more  for  that  than  for  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  No  ;  you  have  been  as  my 
own  child  for  so  many  years,  that  I  am 
afraid,  if  your  happiness  and  my  honour 
were  put  in  the  scales,  my  honour  would 
kick  the  beam.  But  it  is  your  happiness 
that  I  am  considering  now ;  for  I  could  not 
make  you  happy,  try  as  I  might. 

Aline.     Why  not? 

Mr.  Atwood  (decidedly).  Because  you  do 
not  love  me. 

Aline.     I  do  love  you. 

Mr.   Atwood.     No,  you  do  not,  or  you 
would  be  less  sure  of  it,  and  you  would  not 
tell  me  so.     You  are  fond  of  me,  as  I  am 
of  you,  but  you  do  not  love  me,  my  dear. 
47 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline.     What  is  the  difference  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling).  You  will  know 
some  day,  and  then  I  will  let  you  marry 
him. 

Aline.     How  shall  I  know  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  Ah,  that  was  just  the  order 
of  question  I  wanted  to  leave  Madame  Ar- 
mand  to  answer. 

Aline.     No  ;  tell  me  yourself. 

Mr.  Ativood.  Well,  first  of  all,  you  will 
know  without  asking,  and  deny  it,  even  to 
yourself.  You  will  stand  in  the  shadow  of  a 
needle,  and  fancy  yourself  concealed.  You 
will  be  troubled  when  with  him,  and  miser- 
able when  away  from  him.  And  then  I  will 
give  you  to  him,  and  not  before. 

Aline.  But  I  am  miserable  at  the  thought 
of  being  away  from  you. 

Mr.  Atwood.  You  are  miserable  at  the 
thought  of  being  with  Madame  Armand. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  Aline,  do  you  ever  miss 
me  after  I  leave  you  ? 

Aline.     Indeed  I  do. 

Mr.  Atwood.  How  much,  and  for  how 
long? 

Aline  (thoughtfully).  I  don't  have  much 
48 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


time  between  lessons,  but  I  want  you  to 
come  back  soon,  and  I  always  cry  until  the 
class-bell  rings  after  you  go.  (MR.  ATWOOD 
stoops  and  kisses  her  hand  with  exaggerated 
gallantry?) 

Mr.  Atwood.  That  is  good  of  you,  Aline  ; 
you  miss  me  more  than  I  thought,  my  dear. 
But  some  day,  although  your  eyes  may  cry 
less,  your  heart  will  cry  more.  You  won't 
want  him  back  soon,  but  at  once  and  for- 
ever. And  no  lesson-books  nor  class-bells 
on  earth  will  be  able  to  make  you  forget. 
Then  you  will  remember  your  old  guar- 
dian's words,  and  laugh  at  the  idea  of  loving 
him. 

Aline.     No  ;  for  indeed  I  do  love  you. 

Mr.  Atwood  (tenderly}.  I  know  you  do, 
and  I  love  you  dearly,  my  child.  We  are 
not  ashamed  to  confess  our  loves,  are  we  ? 
There  lies  the  defect. 

Aline.  You  don't  love  me,  or  you  wouldn't 
let  me  be  so  unhappy. 

Mr.  Atwood.  You  are  not  to  be  un- 
happy. 

Aline.  I  shall  be  unhappy  with  Madame 
Armand. 

49 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood.  You  are  not  to  be  left  with 
Madame  Armand. 

Aline  {radiantly).  You  mean  to  keep  me 
yourself,  after  all  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  Practically,  since  you  are 
foolish  enough  to  want  me.  I  don't  see  it 
all  quite  clearly  yet,  but  do  you  think  you 
would  like  to  live  with  my  sister  ? 

Aline.  With  your  sister  ?  I  thought  you 
said  — 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  will  take  a  house  for  you 
both  near  my  own  rooms.  She  is  a  widow, 
you  know,  and,  being  quite  as  mistaken  as 
yourself  regarding  me,  will  do  all  I  wish. 
You  will  see  me  every  day,  and  oftener, 
perhaps.  That  will  be  your  own  home,  and 
my  second  home.  Will  that  satisfy  you  ? 

Aline  (starting  to  her  feef).  You  are  in 
earnest  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (rising  also).  In  dead  ear- 
nest ! 

Aline.     I  can't,  no,  I  can't  believe  it. 

Mr.  Atwood  (laughing).     Shut  your  eyes 

and  try  hard,  and,  whatever  you  do,   don't 

cry  again.    You  have  been  a  naughty  child, 

and  gotten  all  you  cried  for.    Now  be  good, 

5° 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


and  thank  me  prettily.  (ALINE,  with  a  cry 
of  delight,  clasps  her  hands  on  his  arm  and 
lifts  her  face,  offering  him  her  lips.  MR. 
ATWOOD  looks  at  her  and  hesitates.  He  lays 
his  finger  lightly  on  her  lips,)  No  ;  we  will 
keep  those  for  the  lover  to  come.  You  are 
pleased,  then  ?  You  want  nothing  more  ? 
Think,  now,  while  I  am  in  the  melting 
mood. 

Aline  (knitting  her  brows  with  difficulty). 
I  don't  think  of  anything  more  that  I  could 
want. 

Mr.  Atwood  (quizzically).     Not  even  me  ? 

Aline.     You  said  I  should  see  you. 

Mr.  Atwood.  And  you  don't  want  to 
marry  me  now  ? 

Aline  (shyly],  I  do,  if  you  want  me  to. 
You  have  been  so  good. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Aline,  confess  the  truth. 
Now  that  you  have  escaped  Madame  Ar- 
mand,  you  want  to  throw  me  over.  You 
never  loved  me  at  all. 

Aline.  It  was  you  who  said  that.  I  told 
you  I  did. 

Mr.  Atwood.  In  the  past  tense  already, 
I  vow  !  Do  you  ? 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  (hanging  her  head}.  If  all  that  you 
told  me  just  now  is  true,  then  perhaps  I 
don't. 

Mr.  Atwood  (laughing  aloud}.  Very  well, 
then,  I  shall  never  ask  you  to  marry  me 
again.  I  have  been  refused  by  a  chit  of 
seventeen,  on  this  first  day  of  April. 

Aline  (looking  at  him  thoughtfully].  You 
have  been  so  good  to  me.  Will  you  take 
me  home  now  ?  (She  moves  apart  from  him, 
and  speaks  softly,  lowering  her  eyes.}  I  shall 
love  you  forever  for  what  you  did  then. 
But  all  the  same  — 

Mr.  Atwood  (looks  at  her  keenly.  Aside). 
Have  I  said  too  much  ?  (Aloud.}  Here 
is  your  hat,  Aline.  (He  lifts  her  hat  from 
the  floor  and  watches  her  tie  it  on.  ALINE 
avoids  his  eyes.  They  move  to  the  door, 
which  MR.  ATWOOD  opens.  As  he  stands 
aside  for  her  to  pass  out,  ALINE  glances  back 
over  her  shoulder?) 

Aline  (mischievously].  You  must  never 
tell  any  one  that  I  offered  myself  to  you, 
you  know. 

Mr.  Atwood  (following  her).     Aline  ! 

CURTAIN. 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  :  the  same. 

Time :  One  year  later. 

Curtain  rises  on  MR.  ATWOOD  seated  at  his 
desk,  looking  at  the  calendar  he  holds  in  his 
hand.     The  date  marked  is  April  1st.    He 
lays  down  the  calendar  thoughtfully,  draws 
his  paper  toward  him,  dips  his  pen  in  the 
ink,  and  begins  to  write.     The  door  at  the 
back  of  the  room  opens  softly. 
(Enter  ALINE,   dressed  in   walking-costume. 
She  crosses  the  floor  on  tiptoe,  and  stands 
laughing  at  the  other  side  of  the  desk.) 
Aline.      How  angry  are  you  this  time  ? 
(As  MR.  ATWOOD  looks  up  and  attempts  to 
rise,  she  motions  him  back.)     Don't  move ;  I 
am  coming  to  you.     (She  rounds  the  desk 
and  drops  in  a  chair  by  his  side.     Still  laugh- 
ing and  holding  out  her  hand)     You  have 
not  bade  me  good-morning  yet. 

Mr.  Atwood  (holding  the  hand  she  offers). 
Aline,  you  are  incorrigible.  How  did  you 
get  here  this  time  ? 

53 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline.  In  the  same  way,  —  a  cab.  Now, 
why  don't  you  scold  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  Because  I  cannot,  and  you 
know  it.  This  is  a  flagrant  abuse  of  power. 
Is  my  sister  in  town  ? 

Aline.  Oh,  no,  she  is  at  the  seaside, 
where  you  left  her. 

Mr.  Atwood  (reproachfully].  And  where 
I  left  you. 

Aline.  I  know  ;  I  have  run  away  again. 
I  took  the  early  train  this  morning.  I 
wanted  to  see  you. 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  should  be  more  than 
human  to  scold  now.  That  was  cleverly 
done,  Aline.  What  do  you  want  ?  Experi- 
ence, alas,  has  taught  you  that  you  have 
only  to  ask. 

Aline.     I  wanted  to  see  you  — 

Mr.  Atwood.  You  saw  me  three  days 
ago. 

Aline.  I  wanted  to  see  you  again;  Are 
you  busy  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  No ;  as  usual,  I  am  at 
your  disposal. 

Aline.     You  were  writing  when  I  came  in. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Did  you  expect  to  find  me 
54 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


kicking  my  heels  ?  No ;  to  tell  the  truth,  if 
a  penny  postage-stamp  had  been  put  on 
my  thoughts,  I  am  afraid  you  would  have 
received  them. 

Aline  (opening  her  purse  laughingly,  selects 
a  coin,  which  she  lays  on  the  table).  A  penny 
for  your  thoughts,  then,  as  you  have  put 
your  price  on  them. 

Mr.  Atwood  (taking  possession  of  the  coin, 
and  laughing  also).  I  will  give  you  an 
I.  O.  U.  See  here.  (He  takes  up  his  pen 
and  writes  rapidly.  ALINE  looks  over  his 
shoulder?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (reads).  "  I.  O.  U.  my 
thoughts,  to  be  delivered  in  ripe  season." 
Does  that  answer?  (ALINE  takes  the  paper, 
folds  U,  and  lays  it  away  in  her  reticule  with 
mock  carefulness?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (watching  her).  And  now 
what  ?  I  am  not  vain  enough  to  believe 
that  you  only  wanted  to  see  me.  Let  me 
think.  You  were  afraid  I  would  buy  your 
new  dining-room  table  without  you,  after 
all.  Is  that  it  ? 

Aline.  I  told  you  I  didn't  care  about 
selecting  it. 

55 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood.  And  I  told  you  I  would 
not  buy  it  without  you.  I  am  a  creature 
of  habit.  The  old  table  is  just  right.  Sup- 
pose your  new  table  proved  too  wide  for 
you  to  hand  my  coffee-cup  across  yourself  ? 
I  should  never  dine  with  you  again,  if  you 
invited  me  every  night.  You  must  go  with 
me  and  test  it. 

Aline.  Indeed  I  shall  not.  What  would 
the  cabinet-maker  think  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  He  would  think  me  an  old 
fool,  I  imagine,  and  (pausing  and  looking  at 
ALINE)  I  fear  he  would  be  quite  right.  I 
must  content  myself  by  taking  him  the 
measurement,  I  suppose.  But  come,  Aline, 
I  want  you  to  sit  over  there  in  the  arm- 
chair by  the  window,  where  you  sat  the 
first  time  you  came  here,  one  year  ago 
to-day.  I  have  held  it  sacred  to  you  since 
then.  (He  leads  ALINE  to  the  arm-chair,  and 
seats  himself  near  her^)  I  sat  just  here,  oppo- 
site to  you,  did  I  not  ?  But  then  you  were 
my  obedient  ward  —  and  to-day  I  am  your 
obedient  guardian. 

Aline  (lifting  her  hat  from  her  head  and 
laying  it  on  her  knee).  You  have  not  told 
56 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


me  that  I  might  take  off  my  hat  yet,  and 
you  did  the  time  before.  (She  passes  her 
hands  over  her  hair?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling).  Mark  the  year's 
difference  !  Then  you  humbly  asked  my 
permission.  To-day  you  don't  wait  for 
it.  Time  flies,  but  we  fly  also.  Are  you 
satisfied  with  the  changes  of  your  year, 
Aline  ? 

Aline  (using  the  crown  of  her  hat  as  a 
cushion  for  her  bonnet-pins,  thrusting  them  in 
and  out  as  she  talks].  Yes,  I  am  satisfied  ; 
but  your  sister  is  not  satisfied  for  me. 

Mr.  Atwood.     What  displeases  her  ? 

Aline.     That  I  am  not  married. 

Mr.  Atwood  (quickly).  Did  she  say  that 
to  you  ? 

Aline.  Not  that  exactly,  but  I  know  how 
anxious  she  is  to  see  me  settled.  She  thinks 
I  am  in  danger  of  throwing  myself  away, 
you  know. 

Mr.  Atwood.     Why? 

Aline  (indifferently).  Oh,  because  I  am 
wealthy,  and  because  I  am  pretty. 

Mr.  Atwood  (laughing).  You  know  that 
you  are  wealthy,  because  I  could  not  well 
57 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


keep  that  from  you.  But  how  do  you  know 
you  are  pretty  ? 

Aline  (demurely).     I  have  been  told  so. 

Mr.  Atwood.     I  never  told  you  so. 

Aline  (looking  up  at  him  and  raising  her 
eyebrows).  You  are  telling  me  so  now. 

Mr.  Atwood.  What  kind  of  discipline 
does  this  show  ?  You  ought  to  stand  in 
awe  of  me,  Aline. 

Aline.  I  do  sometimes.  I  was  horribly 
afraid  of  you  the  night  before  I  left  home. 
I  was  afraid  you  would  be  angry  as  your 
sister  was. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Was  she  angry  with  you  — 
and  why? 

Aline  (thrusting  the  pins  into  her  hat  and 
looking  dowti).  Because  I  couldn't  do  what 
she  wanted  me  to  —  you  remember.  I  was 
afraid  to  tell  you  I  had  sent  him  away, 
because  I  knew  you  wanted  it  so  much, 
too ;  but,  indeed,  I  had  tried  my  very 
best. 

Mr.  Atwood  (leaning  toward  her}.  And 
you  thought  I  should  be  angry!  that  I 
wanted  you  to  marry  ! 

Aline.     But  you  did,  did  you  not  ?     You 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


kept  asking  him  here  and  there,  and  making 
me  go  places  with  him  I  didn't  want  to. 

Mr.  Atwood.  No,  Aline,  I  did  not  want 
you  to  marry  him.  When  you  told  me  you 
could  not,  I  was  indecently  happy  to  hear 
it. 

Aline.  Then  why  did  you  feel  one  way 
and  act  another?  Of  course  I  misunder- 
stood you. 

Mr.  Atwood.     Can  you  see  no  reason  ? 

Aline.     I  call  it  very  unreasonable. 

Mr.  Ativood  (earnestly}.  No,  he  had 
everything  to  offer  you,  —  strength  of  body 
and  mind,  a  real  devotion,  I  think,  wealth, 
position  —  and  youth.  I  determined  he 
should  have  every  chance,  but  as  for  wish- 
ing it  —  no,  Aline.  (He  rises  and  moves  to 
the  desk,  where  he  unlocks  a  drawer  and  takes 
from  it  a  long  white  glove,  which  he  hands 
ALINE.)  You  left  it  here  in  your  last  visit. 
Do  you  remember  ? 

Aline  (puzzled,  and  turning  the  glove  over). 
No  —  why,  yes,  I  do  remember.  I  searched 
everywhere  for  it  afterward,  and  finally 
threw  away  the  mate.  Why  did  you  not 
give  me  this  before  ? 

59 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood.  I  have  not  given  it  to  you 
now. 

Aline  (turning  the  glove  over  again; 
laughs].  It  may  not  be  wasted  after  all,  as 
it  happens  to  be  a  right-hand  glove.  This 
will  do  for  my  wedding-day.  Keep  it  for 
me.  When  I  want  it  I  will  ask  you  for  it. 
(MR.  ATWOOD  takes  the  glove  from  her  and 
puts  it  in  his  pocket  silently?) 

Aline  (laughing).  How  seriously  you 
take  it ! 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  am  thinking  of  the  con- 
fession I  have  to  make  to  you.  I  was 
going  down  to  the  seaside  to  see  you  this 
afternoon. 

Aline.  But  you  wrote  that  you  were  very 
busy,  and  that  you  couldn't  possibly  come. 

Mr.  Atwood.     And  it  was  quite  true. 

Aline.     Then  how  could  you  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  I  couldn't  from  that  point 
of  view,  but  I  was  coming.  I  wanted  to 
see  you. 

Aline  (mischievously).  You  saw  me  three 
days  ago.  That  was  your  reply  to  me. 

Mr.  Atwood.     I  wanted  to  see  you  again. 
That  was  your  answer. 
60 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline.     Then  you  do  miss  me  a  little  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (smiling).     A  little. 

Aline.     Only  a  little  ? 

Mr.  Atwood  (taking  her  two  hands  in  his, 
and  raising  them  to  his  lips).  I  have  not 
paid  you  that  homage  since  the  day  when 
you  last  sat  in  this  chair.  You  say  that 
you  have  wanted  me,  Aline.  Multiply  that 
tenfold,  and  you  will  know  how  I  was  want- 
ing you.  I  told  you  I  was  a  creature  of 
habit.  Three  days  ago,  when  you  left 
town,  I  turned  back  again  to  my  old  lines 
of  life,  and  it  was  as  if  they  had  never 
fitted  me.  I  had  drifted  from  them,  and  in 
revenge  they  would  not  have  me  again. 
My  old  haunts  were  but  places  revisited. 
Do  you  know  what  I  mean  ?  What  am  I 
to  do  ?  I  was  coming  to  ask  you. 

Aline  (touching  the  reticule  at  her  side). 
Was  that  the  thought  you  sold  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  That  and  something  fur- 
ther. Will  you  present  your  paper  now, 
Aline  ?  I  am  more  than  ready  to  tell  my 
thought. 

Aline.  Let  me  tell  something  first.  I 
was  not  quite  honest  when  I  said  I  came 
61 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


for  nothing.  (She  turns  her  face  from  him 
as  she  continues,  speaking  softly?)  Last  year, 
when  I  sat  in  this  chair,  you  told  me  that  if 
I  really  cared,  I  would  be  so  unhappy  in  a 
separation  that  nothing  could  make  me  for- 
get— 

Mr.  Atwood  (eagerly).     Yes  ? 

Aline  (her  face  still  averted}.  And  that 
I  then  would  learn  the  difference  between 
—  just  being  fond  of  some  one  and  some- 
thing else. 

Mr.  Atwood  (bending  nearer,  and  half  cir- 
cling her  with  his  arm).  Go  on,  Aline. 

Aline.  And  that  when  my  eyes  cried  less 
than  my  heart,  I  would  understand. 

Mr.  Atwood.     And  now,  dear  ? 

Aline  (turning  to  him  suddenly,  and  hiding 
her  face  against  his  arm).  You  told  me 
that  if  I  cared  really  I  couldn't  say  it,  and 
I  don't  think  I  can  say  it  at  all. 

Mr.  Atwood.  Then  let  me  say  it  for  you, 
Aline. 

Aline.   That  was  what  I  came  for.    When 

we  were  separated,  then  I  knew,   as  you 

said  I  would  —    Will  you  bring  him  back  to 

me  ?    (MR.  ATWOOD  bends  over  her  in  silence. 

62 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


As  ALINE  attempts  to  rise  he  gently  prevents 
her  by  laying  his  hand  on  her  head.  Once 
his  lips  touch  her  hair,  and  then  he  releases 
her  and  stands  beside  her.  ALINE,  rising 
also,  glances  up  at  him  eagerly.  As  she 
clasps  her  hands  appealingly  on  his  arm,  he 
looks  down  at  her.) 

Mr.  Atwood  (slowly).  Yes,  I  will  bring 
him  back  to  you. 

Aline  (anxiously).  You  are  not  vexed 
with  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.     No,  my  child. 

Aline.     And  you  will  still  love  me  ? 

Mr.  Atwood.  Always,  Aline.  (As  she  still 
clings  to  him  he  rouses  with  effort?)  All  is 
as  it  should  be  ;  I  shall  do  my  part.  I  will 
give  you  to  him  as  I  promised,  and  dance 
at  your  wedding,  dear.  Are  you  satisfied  ? 

Aline.  How  good  you  are  to  me.  (She 
lifts  her  face,  offering  him  her  lips?) 

Mr.  Atwood  (framing  her  face  in  his 
hands).  No,  those  are  not  for  me,  Aline. 
(As  he  releases  her  and  turns  away,  a  rap  at 
the  door  calls  him.  MR.  ATWOOD  crosses  the 
room  and  opens  the  door  to  receive  a  card 
which  is  handed  in  to  him.  He  reads  it  and 

63 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


then  looks  at  ALINE.  Returning  to  her  side, 
he  speaks  steadily?)  Aline,  some  one  is  wait- 
ing to  see  me  in  the  outer  office  —  some 
one  who  can  offer  you  a  great  deal,  my 
dear, —  an  honourable  name,  an  eager  devo- 
tion, and  the  pride  of  strength  and  youth. 
He  asks  me  if  I  can  spare  him  a  few  mo- 
ments. What  shall  I  tell  him,  dear  ?  Shall 
I  say  that  I  will  spare  him  far  more  than 
that  —  and  that  it  is  waiting  for  him  here  ? 
{He  takes  her  glove  from  his  pocket,  and  holds 
it  toward  her?)  Take  your  glove  if  that  is 
to  be  my  answer.  (As  ALINE,  with  bowed 
head,  holds  out  her  hand,  MR.  ATWOOD  lays 
the  white  glove  across  her  palm,  and,  gently 
opening  her  reticule,  draws  out  the  written 
form.  As  he  passes  the  open  window  on  Jiis 
way  from  the  room,  he  p  arises  to  tear  the  paper 
into  fragments,  fluttering  the  white  scraps  out 
into  the  air?) 

CURTAIN. 


LINK   III. 
THE    NOTE    REDEEMED. 


Turn,  Fortune, 

turn  thy  wheel. 


LINK  III. 

THE   NOTE    REDEEMED. 

MY  DEAR  GUARDIAN,  — Won't  you  drink  tea  with 
me  to-morrow  afternoon  at  four  o'clock  ?  You  are 
such  a  stranger,  that  I  am  obliged  to  hunt  you  up,  not 
only  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  but  because  I 
want  to  consult  you  upon  my  own  affair^. 
Affectionately  yours, 

ALINE. 

Mr.  Atwood  did  not  use  a  book  for 
memoranda.  His  pockets  were  always  filled 
with  letters,  which  served  the  same  purpose 
for  him.  These  he  destroyed  as  the  appoint- 
ments they  made  were  fulfilled.  He  had 
drawn  a  sheaf  of  envelopes  from  his  pocket 
to  shuffle  them  over  and  find  Aline's  note, 
which  he  laid  on  her  drawing-room  fire. 
He  was  watching  it  blaze  as  she  entered. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  "  she  said, 
giving  him  her  hand.  "  All  this  winter  you 
have  been  neglecting  me.  I  am  thinking 
67 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


of  reporting  you  to  the  Orphan's  Court. 
Do  you  know,  I  have  not  seen  you  in  these 
ten  days,  and  then  I  find  you  burning  my 
bilkt-doux  on  my  own  fire.  There  are  some 
people  who  treasure  every  line  I  write." 

"  One  at  a  time,  Aline,"  Mr.  Atwood 
remonstrated.  "  First,  you  are  no  longer  my 
ward.  You  were  eighteen  three  birthdays 
ago.  You  see  I  have  an  uncivil  memory. 
Secondly,  I  am  not  'some  people.'  What 
do  you  hear  from  HIM  ?  " 

Aline  turned  away  to  the  tea-table. 

"  Let  us  have  our  tea  before  we  talk  of 
my  affairs,"  she  said,  seating  herself.  Mr. 
Atwood  drew  his  chair  by  the  corner  of  the 
table  near  her. 

"  Let  us  sip  and  talk,"  he  amended,  taking 
the  full  teacup  Aline  handed  him,  "  unless 
this  is  a  pretext  for  delay.  Have  you  a  con- 
fession which  you  are  afraid  to  open  to  me  ? " 

Aline  flushed  as  she  bent  over  her  bowl 
of  silver. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  not  afraid  — 
take  this  spoon :  it  is  my  prettiest.  I 
wanted  to  consult  you  about  my  engage- 
ment." 

68 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Your  engagement !  I  have  already 
joined  your  hands  with  Archie's,  and  blessed 
you.  1  am  prepared  to  give  you  away  when 
the  day  is  appointed.  What  more  can  I 
do?" 

"  Nothing :  this  is  a  matter  of  undoing. 
I  have  decided  to  break  my  engagement." 

Mr.  Atwood  set  down  his  half-emptied 
cup  on  the  table,  pushing  it  from  him. 

"  You  are  wiser  than  I,  my  child,"  he 
said.  "  The  tea  should  have  been  drunk 
first  if  it  were  to  be  finished.  What  fancy 
is  this,  Aline  ?  " 

"  A  very  practical  one." 

"  Are  matters  going  wrong  practically  ? 
My  last  letter  from  Archie  was  not  very 
brilliant,  poor  boy,  —  why  should  it  be  ?  — 
but  he  spoke  confidently  of  the  future." 

Aline  moved  her  chair  back  impatiently. 

"  The  future  !  I  am  sick  of  the  future. 
I  want  a  little  present.  You  said  just  now 
that  your  memory  was  uncivil.  You  know 
my  age.  I  know  it.  I  grow  a  week  older 
each  day,  I  think,  and  so  much  more  tired." 

Mr.  Atwood  also  moved  his  chair  from 
the  table,  drawing  it  nearer  Aline. 
69 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"Go  on,"  he  said  gravely,  "and  speak 
more  plainly,  Aline." 

"  How  much  more  plainly  can  I  speak  ? 
I  am  tired,  bored,  ennuye  beyond  bearing. 
The  French  understand.  Did  you  ever 
read  '  Privat  S'embete'  ?  They  know  it 
means  more  than  a  fancy." 

Mr.  Atwood  sat  with  his  eyes  fastened 
on  his  ward's  face.  His  brows  were  drawn 
together. 

"  Did  you  learn  that  with  Madame 
Armand  ? " 

Aline  laughed.  "  Perhaps.  Madame  has 
her  own  methods.  She  managed  me  —  to 
a  fault,  shall  I  say  ?  She  would  talk  to  me 
'  like  a  mother ; '  those  were  her  words. 
Shall  I  repeat  to  you  one  of  her  favorite 
homilies  ?  '  My  child,  you  must  be  more 
studious.  You  are  quite  right.  I  do  de- 
mand more  of  you  than  I  myself  have. 
I  —  no,  it  is  the  age  that  demands.  To-day 
is  not  yesterday.  A  woman  must  now  do 
more  than  amuse.  In  my  youth  it  was 
otherwise.  You  wish  to  marry  well?  Of 
course,  all  women  wish  to  do  that.  Well, 
the  standard  is  raised.  Marriage  is  more 
70 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


of  a  double  harness.  That  is  all.  Learn, 
my  child.'  And  I  learned.  Why  should 
Archie  and  I  drag  on  longer  together  ? 
He  is  fretting  his  soul  out  off  there.  It 
is  this  separation  from  me,  the  thought  of 
me  and  my  future,  which  frets  him.  What 
use  could  I  be  to  him  in  his  life  as  it  must 
stand  for  years  to  come  ?  The  truth  is,  I 
was  created  as  an  ornament  of  society 
merely,  and  as  such  I  feel  that  I  have  been 
broken.  I  keep  turning  out  my  unblem- 
ished side  to  the  world." 

Mr.  Atwood  bent  forward  to  take  Aline's 
hand  in  his.  His  face  had  relaxed  to  the 
point  of  smiling.  "  My  dear,  unless  you 
want  me  to  be  rude,  and  say  to  you,  no,  no, 
not  broken,  only  a  little  cracked,  you  must 
be  somewhat  more  definite.  Let  me  see 
if  I  can  tell  your  story  to  you.  This  is  the 
way  I  read  it.  Archie  has  had  some  draw- 
backs over  which  he  has  brooded  to  the 
extent  of  writing  to  you  and  suggesting 
that  he  will  not  bind  you  longer.  Perhaps 
the  letter  is  too  honest  to  show  you  how 
little  his  heart  really  means  you  to  act  upon 
this.  Is  that  it  ? " 

71 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  withdrew  her  hand. 

"No,  that  is  not  it.  I  have  had  no  such 
letter,  and  I  believe  no  such  thought  ever 
crossed  Archie's  brain.  If  he  had  been  able 
to  stay  here  with  me,  after  his  financial  ship- 
wreck, it  might  have  been  different;  as  it  is" — 

"The  shipwreck  was  as  unexpected  as  it 
was  undeserved,"  Mr.  Atwood  interposed. 

"  I  know.  I  am  not  blaming  him.  It  is 
fate  ;  just  as  it  is  fate  that  I  was  not  edu- 
cated for  a  poor  man's  wife.  I  have  no 
talent  for  domesticity.  Why  should  I  ? 
Was  there  anything  at  Madame  Armand's 
school  to  develop  it  ?  I  remember  no  other 
home  until  you  created  this  one  for  me. 
Yesterday  I  sat  down  with  my  life  and 
looked  at  it  squarely  to  see  only  a  spread- 
ing desert  of  weariness.  I  will  not  bear  it. 
Now  do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Atwood  did  not  immediately  reply. 
He  had  lifted  his  teaspoon,  and  was  exam- 
ining its  carving,  from  the  monogram  in  the 
bowl  to  the  figure  on  the  handle.  He  looked 
up  as  Aline  ended. 

"I  fear  I  do,"  he  replied  slowly.     "Who 
gave  you  this,  Aline  ?     It  is  new,  I  think." 
72 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Yes,"  she  replied  quietly.  "  Mr.  Mc- 
Henry  gave  it  to  me  last  week.  He  has 
returned  from  Munich,  you  know."  A  dash 
of  red  came  and  faded  in  her  cheeks. 

Mr.  Atwood  again  looked  down  at  the 
spoon.  "  Yes,"  he  replied  dryly,  "  I  know. 
I  thought  I  recognised  the  Munich  Child, 
—  emblem  of  innocence.  Aline,  perhaps  I 
have  been  somewhat  to  blame  in  this  mat- 
ter. When  the  crash  came  you  were  more 
than  ready  to  throw  yourself  and  your  for- 
tune into  the  breach.  Archie  refused  your 
offer,  but  had  I  supported  him  less  strongly, 
I  think  you  might  have  gained  your  point. 
You  are  not  lacking  in  force.  Both  he  and 
I  thought  it  wiser  for  him  to  retrieve  his 
fortunes  alone,  wiser  for  each  of  you.  Sup- 
pose that  I  now  withdraw  my  opposition, 
and  advise  an  immediate  marriage,  what 
then  ?  Your  fortune  would  be  an  ample 
support  for  you  both.  Concerning  future 
luxuries,  Archie  is  not  a  man  to  be  long 
held  down  by  circumstances." 

Aline  lifted  her  eyebrows.  Her  shoulders 
followed  them  slightly. 

"  My  fortune  !     While  Archie  is  off  there 

73 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


in  no  place  to  speak  of,  it  is  all  well  enough 
to  talk  of  his  being  economical.  Back  in 
his  old  world,  married  to  me,  it  would  be 
impossible.  My  fortune  would  represent 
about  the  necessary  pin-money  for  us. 
Our  tastes  are  extravagant,  or  rather  mine 
are,  and  Archie's  are  expensive.  That 
sounds  better." 

"  Aline,  two  years  ago  you  did  not  know 
all  this." 

"  That  was  two  years  ago.  I  have  had 
time  to  learn.  I  know  more  of  the  world, 
more  of  myself." 

Mr.  Atwood  was  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table,  his 
hand  shading  his  eyes. 

"  What  you  have  learned  of  the  world,  I 
can  see,"  he  replied.  "What  have  you 
learned  of  yourself  ? " 

"  That  I  am  a  cold  woman,  incapable  of 
deep  feeling.  When  I  hear  good  women 
sentimentalising,  I  feel  like  saying,  '  Bah  ! 
what  do  you  know  about  life  outside  of 
your  four  walls,  —  the  life  I  need  ? '  I  would 
say  it  if  my  breeding  were  not  a  trifle 
stronger  than  my  disgust.  I  have  learned 
74 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


that  luxuries  are  to  me  what  bread  and 
meat  are  to  other,  perhaps  better,  women. 
Is  that  the  wife  for  a  poor  man  ?  " 

Mr.  Atwood  lifted  his  hand  from  his  eyes. 

"  Is  it  the  wife  for  any  man  ?  Aline,  you 
do  not  realise  what  you  are  saying.  To 
whom  have  you  been  talking,  or  what  have 
you  been  reading  ?  " 

"  You  think  me  reflecting  some  one  else, 
do  you  not  ?  I  am  only  showing  you  my- 
self, as  you  asked  me  to  do." 

"And  this  is  the  child  for  whom  I  made 
myself  responsible  !  You  were  right,  Aline. 
I  have  neglected  my  trust.  You  have  taught 
me  a  lesson  to-day.  Yet  I  thought  I  knew 
you.  You  brought  me  your  first  childish 
troubles,  your  first  school-girl  disillusions, 
your  dawning  love-story,  and  now,  thank 
God,  you  bring  me  your  first  contemplated 
sin.  My  dear,  we  must  talk  this  over  many 
times,  and  from  all  sides.  I  told  you  my 
guardianship  was  past.  It  is  in  law,  but  in 
affection  it  still  exists.  I  can  still  expect 
your  obedience.  You  must  wait  a  month 
before  deciding.  Thirty  days  is  not  long 
to  consider  so  grave  a  step." 

75 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


For  the  first  time  Aline  gave  evidence  of 
uneasiness.  Her  fingers  interlaced  ner- 
vously. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  she  said  in  a  voice  un- 
steady in  spite  of  herself ;  "  I  have  written." 

Mr.  Atwood  rose  to  his  feet  and  came  to 
her  side.  He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the 
back  of  her  chair. 

"  Aline,"  he  asked  sternly,  "  do  you  mean 
that  you  have  written  all  this  to  Archibald 
Bracken,  and  sent  your  letter  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head,  partly  in  assent, 
partly  as  if  shrinking  from  the  storm  of  his 
anger. 

"  What,  then,  did  this  mockery  of  consul- 
tation mean  ?  At  least  have  the  courage 
of  your  actions,  however  unworthy.  Look 
up  and  answer  me." 

She  raised  her  head  timidly.  As  her 
eyes  met  his,  she  burst  into  a  sudden  pas- 
sion of  tears,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Mr.  Atwood  stood  looking  down  at  her  in 
silence.  As  she  still  sobbed,  he  lifted  his 
hand  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  laid 
it  tenderly  on  her  hair. 

"  My  poor  little  worldling,"  he  said,  "  did 
76 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


you  think  me  too  harsh  ?  My  dear,  a  man 
does  not  forget  twenty  years  in  a  day.  May 
Archibald  Bracken  forget  two  years  in  an 
hour.  That  step  is  irretrievable.  We  both 
know  him  and  know  how  he  will  accept  it." 

He  sat  down  again,  and  drawing  Aline's 
hands  from  her  face,  held  them,  all  wet  with 
tears,  in  his  own.  "Come,"  he  said,  "let 
us  talk  it  over.  You  have  taken  your  life 
from  Archie  and  from  me  into  these  frail 
little  hands  for  better  or  worse.  That 
which  is  done  is  ended.  We  will  pick  up 
the  broken  threads  and  go  on.  What  is 
your  purpose,  dear  ?  " 

As  Aline  moved  to  wipe  her  eyes  with 
her  handkerchief,  Mr.  Atwood,  waiting  for 
her  reply,  again  took  up  the  Munich  spoon. 
"  I  do  not  suppose  you  mean  to  spend  the 
rest  of  your  life  alone,"  he  said ;  "  I  conclude 
you  mean  to  marry  "  — 

Aline's  voice  was  still  broken. 

"  Need  we  discuss  that  just  yet  —  so 
soon  ? " 

"  I  do  not  see  why  not.  Subjects  are  as 
hard  to  reopen  as  wounds.  This  is  wide 
now.  We  may  as  well  discuss  it  to  the 
77 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


bottom.  We  have  always  found  it  better  to 
talk  our  talks  out,  you  know.  As  you  have 
turned  from  a  marriage  of  the  heart,  I 
gather  you  mean  to  make  one  of  the  world." 

"  I  surely  shall  not  make  an  unworldly 
marriage." 

"That  is  more  delicately  put,  but  we 
mean  the  same  thing.  It  is  a  little  difficult 
to  be  as  delicate  as  we  might  wish  under 
the  circumstances.  Suppose  we  bring  the 
whole  matter  to  a  business  level,  and  use 
business  terms.  It  will  be  easier,  I  think. 
It  was  Archie's  ill-fortune  to  own  stock  in 
a  railroad  which  was  reorganised.  That 
is,  it  got  into  difficulties,  and  was  bought 
in  by  a  single  man,  with  all  its  liabilities,  for 
reselling.  What  would  you  think  of  looking 
on  this  as  a  personal  reorganisation  ?  You 
have  fallen  into  difficulties.  At  this  point, 
as  a  wise  financier,  you  consult  your  lawyer. 
Together  we  brush  up  our  road,  and  look 
about  us  for  a  new  purchaser." 

Aline  crimsoned. 

"  You  are  cruel,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"  Dear  child,  I  am  only  wording  the  facts, 
and  wording  them  as  tenderly  as  such  facts 
78 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


can  be  set  to  language.  Aline,  tell  me  that 
you  entered  into  this  blindly,  that  you  see 
it  now  as  it  is,  for  the  first  time." 

Aline  looked  aside  thoughtfully.  Mr.  At- 
wood  bent  forward,  waiting  her  reply.  He 
sank  back  in  a  chair  again  as  she  turned  to 
him,  her  face  set. 

"  No ;  I  had  not  put  my  future  in  such 
plain  terms,  but  you  have  for  me.  That  is 
what  it  will  be.  I  shall  choose  carefully, 
with  your  help.  A  woman  can  choose  care- 
fully who  has  no  heart  to  rule  her  head.  I 
do  not  see  that  I  am  wrong.  I  am  what 
I  am,  and  shall  make  the  best  of  myself." 

"  And  are  you  sure  of  this  self-knowl- 
edge, Aline  ? " 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  Could  a  woman 
of  another  kind  act  as  I  have  acted,  speak 
as  I  have  spoken?  I  have  proved  myself." 

Mr.  Atwood  once  more  lifted  the  spoon, 
which  seemed  to  fascinate  him.  He  looked 
thoughtfully  from  it  to  Aline. 

"  Then,  why  dodge   the   bullets  ?     You 
only  turn   from   one  into  the  path  of  an- 
other.    Face  the  fire  steadily  if  you  are  in 
earnest.     Shall  I  go  on  ?  " 
79 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Go  on  !  " 

"  Let  us,  then,  look  into  the  lives  and  for- 
tunes of  the  most  likely  purchasers  for  our 
road.  In  this  case  the  lives  weigh  more  or 
less.  At  the  moment  I  think  of  four  com- 
paratively suitable  purchasers." 

He  checked  them  off  on  his  fingers,  hold- 
ing up  his  hand,  —  "  Ward,  Holloway,  Mc- 
Henry,  and  Ditson." 

"  Mr.  Ditson  has  no  longer  any  interest 
in  me,"  Aline  interrupted. 

Mr.  Atwood  turned  down  one  finger. 
"  Your  frankness  is  helpful,  Aline  ;  all  finan- 
ciers are  not  so  open,  even  with  their  confi- 
dential advisers.  That  leaves  three,  you 
see  :  of  these,  Ward  has  money,  but  no 
birth  ;  Holloway  has  birth,  almost  as  much 
money,  enough  to  balance  the  matter,  I 
think,  and  knock  Ward  out."  He  turned 
down  another  finger.  "  Clearing  the  decks 
in  this  way  simplifies  decision.  That  leaves 
two,  Holloway  and  McHenry,  both  gentle- 
men, and  with  fortunes  fairly  equal,  neither 
anything  particularly  aggressive  for  good  or 
evil,  as  men  go.  I  happen  to  know  —  and 
here  you  see  the  value  of  an  adviser  —  that 
80 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Holloway  has  a  touch  of  the  speculator's 
fever.  Some  day  you  might  find  yourself 
plus  the  man  and  minus  the  money.  The 
game  would  be  scarcely  worth  the  candle  ; 
McHenry  has  no  such  disqualification. 
Shall  I  turn  Holloway  down,  Aline  ? " 

Aline  looked  up  at  the  two  fingers  he 
held  raised  before  her,  and  then  into  his 
face.  As  her  lips  parted,  Mr.  Atwood  bent 
toward  her,  gathering  her  into  his  arm 
before  she  could  speak. 

"  My  child  !  "  he  cried,  "  da  you  think  I 
could  so  sell  you  to  the  highest  bidder,  even 
if  you  can  sell  yourself  in  a  slave-market  ? 
No  —  and  yet  —  yes  — .  You  know  in  these 
last  years  I  have  been  fortunate  in  every- 
thing I  touched.  That  I  have  grown  wealthy, 
absurdly  wealthy,  you  do  not  know.  Aline, 
I  could  buy  the  four  of  those  men  twice  over. 
I  outbid  them  all.  I  have  cared  for  you  as 
my  own  child  since  your  babyhood.  Let  it 
go  on,  with  the  difference  only  of  a  marriage 
service  read  over  us.  I  do  not  offer  you 
love  as  those  others  would.  But  do  you 
want  it  ?  I  do  not  ask  your  love.  You 
say  you  have  none  to  give.  You  have 
Si 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


nothing  to  tell  me,  nothing  to  keep  from  me. 
Sell  yourself  to  me,  Aline,  if  you  must  be 
sold.  With  me,  at  least,  I  shall  know  you 
safe,  and  with  me  you  have  been  happy." 

Aline  started  back  with  her  hand  on  his 
breast,  thrusting  him  from  her  to  stare  into 
his  face.  Mr.  Atwood  read  the  incredulity 
of  hers,  and,  withdrawing  a  little,  lifted  her 
hand  to  hold  it  gently  between  his  own. 
"Aline,  I  do  mean  it,"  he  said  more  gently, 
and  as  if  answering  her  question.  "  I  offer 
you  that  which  I  gave  you  in  the  past ;  no 
more  nor  less.  It  is  for  you  to  decide  if  that 
will  satisfy  you.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  speak 
now.  I  wish  you  to  wait.  Sleep  on  it, 
wake  on  it,  take  as  long  as  you  will.  My 
child,  does  an  offer  of  marriage  so  agitate 
you  ?  You  are  trembling  from  head  to 
foot.  Come,  for  to-day  forget  it !  I  left  a 
glorious  to-day  outside.  Go  to  your  room 
and  dress  for  a  walk  with  me.  We  will 
take  one  of  those  sunset  rambles  we  used 
to  have  in  the  old  days.  Come  !  " 

He  led  her  across  the  room  to  the  door, 
through  which,  half  laughingly,  he  almost 
thrust  her,  closing  the  wooden  screen  be- 
82 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


tween  her  gaze  of  unbroken  wonder  and 
himself. 

Alone,  he  leaned  heavily  for  a  moment 
against  the  closed  door,  still  grasping  its 
handle.  The  smile  had  vanished  from  his 
face. 

"And  this,"  he  fairly  groaned,  "this  is 
the  woman  whose  hands  clasp  my  heart, 
and  she  —  God  help  me  —  she  has  none." 


LINK  IV. 
AN    APPLE    OF    DISCORD. 


Seed,  blossom, 

and  fruit. 


LINK   IV. 

AN   APPLE   OF    DISCORD. 

MARIE  SEVERANCE  was  playing  the  jews- 
harp.  She  lay  on  her  divan,  her  head 
propped  against  a  bright  yellow  cushion, 
which  shone  through  the  dark  network  of 
her  ruffled  hair  like  an  aureole.  Her  head 
was  thrown  back,  that  she  might  the  better 
reach  her  mouth,  to  which  she  held  the  harp 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she 
twanged  its  tongue,  her  feet  beating  time 
on  the  divan.  For  the  rest,  she  had  a 
French  woman's  face,  and  eyes  that  would 
have  been  blue  had  the  black  pupils  been 
smaller.  The  jewsharp  twanged,  and  the 
louder  it  sang,  the  deeper  shone  the  eyes 
of  Marie  Severance.  She  did  not  hear  a 
knock  twice  repeated,  nor  the  final  opening 
of  the  door. 

"  Is  it  over,  Mrs.  Severance  ? "  said  a 
voice  near  her. 

87 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Marie  dropped  her  harp  with  a  little  cry. 

"  Mr.  Atwood,  I  am  so  glad  you  have 
come  ! " 

"  Judging  from  the  paean  which  drowned 
my  knocks,  I  suppose  it  is  well  over,"  said 
Mr.  Atwood,  drawing  nearer. 

Marie  held  out  both  hands  toward  him. 
She  made  no  effort  to  rise. 

"  Congratulate  us !  "  she  cried. 

In  spite  of  her  French  looks  she  spoke 
English  with  no  accent. 

"  It  is  more  than  well ;  and  to  you  we  owe 
it  all." 

Mr.  Atwood  shook  the  offered  hands 
warmly.  Without  waiting  for  an  invitation, 
he  drew  a  chair  by  the  divan,  seating  himself. 

"  Begin  at  the  beginning,"  he  said  ;  "  tell 
me  word  for  word.  Have  the  babes  in  the 
woods  at  last  found  the  way  in  this  city  of 
America?" 

"  The  way  to  the  way." 

"Where  is  Malcolm?" 

"  I  put  on  his  hat  and  sent  him  out.     He 
was  too  excited  for  twelve  feet  by  fifteen  to 
hold  him.     Oh,  if  you  could  have  been  here  ! 
if  you  could  have  heard  !  " 
88 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Did  you  hear  ?     Were  you  in  the  room  ? " 

Marie  pointed  to  a  great  wooden  shelf 
which  ran  all  along  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room,  screened  by  a  curtain  falling  from  the 
ceiling  like  the  upper  berth  of  a  sleeping- 
car.  An  upright  ladder  ran  from  the  floor 
to  the  shelf.  Mr.  Atwood  looked  up  and 
laughed. 

"  You  hid  there  ? " 

"  Yes ;  after  almost  a  quarrel  with  Mal- 
colm. He  wanted  me  to  go  down-stairs 
and  sit  with  our  land-woman  until  the  Mas- 
ter was  gone.  I  will  not  call  her  a  lady; 
for  she  comes  up  here  in  our  absence  touch- 
ing everything ;  not  to  steal,  you  under- 
stand, but  in  vulgarest  curiosity.  I  knew 
if  I  went  down-stairs  Malcom  would  never 
tell  me  anything.  The  last  time  you  asked 
the  Master  to  look  at  his  picture,  I  really 
heard  nothing,  except  that  he  praised  the 
execution,  condemned  the  conception,  and 
so  "  —  She  made  a  gesture  as  if  wiping  it 
all  out.  "  With  this  new  canvas  I  made 
up  my  mind  I  would  hear  for  myself.  I 
prayed  Malcolm  to  let  me  lie  on  the  shelf 
behind  the  curtain.  I  promised  him  I 
89 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


would  not  move.  He  would  not  hear  of 
it.  I  should  surely  cough  or  sneeze,  and 
then  it  would  be  worse  than  if  I  had  stayed 
openly  on  the  floor.  I  vowed  I  would  do 
neither,  and  that  I  would  stay.  I  wept  and 
entreated,  so  at  last  he  consented,  but  very 
discontentedly.  He  made  me  crawl  up  on 
the  shelf  long  before  the  Master's  coming, 
to  be  quite  sure  I  was  not  caught  by  him. 
And  then  the  Master  was  an  hour  late. 
Two  hours  did  I  lie  there  picking  a  little 
hole  in  the  curtain  to  see  through,  and  hear- 
ing Malcolm's  '  Hist '  at  every  sound  I 
made.  But  when  the  Master  came,  that 
was  worth  all." 

"He  has  fully  approved?"  asked  Mr. 
Atwood,  glancing  towards  a  draped  easel 
which  stood  at  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"  Let  me  go  on  as  it  comes.  He  seated 
himself  there  on  that  stool  before  the  pic- 
ture, Malcolm  standing  just  behind  him, 
and  I  lying  up  there  peeping  down.  For 
what  seemed  to  me  an  eternity,  he  sat  there 
silent  —  silent.  I  could  hear  him  breath- 
ing. My  poor  husband  grew  whiter  and 
whiter ;  for  me,  I  could  have  screamed.  I 
90 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


had  to  stuff  the  corner  of  the  bedquilt 
which  fell  quite  near  me  into  my  mouth. 
At  last  he  did  turn.  He  laid  his  hand  on 
Malcolm's  shoulder.  '  You  are  to  be  con- 
gratulated,' he  said." 

"Bravo!"  cried  Mr.  Atwood.  "From 
that  opinion  there  is  no  appeal ;  what 
else  ?  " 

"  He  staeyed  on  for  an  hour,  talking.  '  You 
are  on  the  right  road,'  he  said;  'you  will 
succeed.  Work,  work,  work,  —  do  nothing, 
think  nothing  else.'  Malcolm  was  stag- 
gering when  he  came  back  into  the  room 
after  letting  him  out.  I  was  then  only  half- 
way down  the  ladder,  and  I  thought  I  could 
fly  to  him.  He  just  caught  me  in  time. 
We  were  like  crazy  things.  He  startled 
me,  he  was  so  excited.  I  sent  him  out,, 
while  I "  — 

"You  played  the  jewsharp,"  said  Mr. 
Atwood.  "  Here  he  is  again.  '  All  hail, 
Severance,  thou  shalt  be  king  hereafter ! ' ' 

The  door  had  opened  to  admit  the  owner 
of  the  studio,  a  young  man  of  attractive 
personal  appearance,  with  perceptive  blue 
eyes,  and  a  sensitive  mouth.  His  decided 

9* 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


chin  seemed  an  odd  ending  to  an  otherwise 
dreamy  face. 

"  Show  me  your  picture  again,"  Mr.  At- 
wood  went  on.  "  I  am  but  mortal,  and  it 
will  be  more  beautiful  to  me  now  that  the 
Master  has  approved." 

Malcolm  Severance  seated  himself  delib- 
erately on  the  nearest  chair. 

n  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he 
answered.  "The  picture  is  just  what  it 
was  before.  I  suppose  Marie  has  re- 
counted our  triumphs  to  you,  and  left  me 
nothing  to  tell.  I  am  doubly  glad  you 
came  in  just  now.  I  wanted  you  to  hear 
this,  and  also  to  consult  you  about  two  pic- 
tures I  have  had  offers  for." 

It  was  apparent  that  he  had  not  walked 
off  his  excitement ;  but  he  brought  out  the 
pictures,  and  talked  them  over  with  a  self- 
control  and  grasp  of  money  values  that 
made  Mr.  Atwood  smile. 

"  What  an  American  you  are,  Severance ! " 
he  said ;  "  if  you  had  a  grain  less  talent  in 
this  line,  it  would  be  a  crying  shame  that 
you  are  lost  to  the  business  world.  Show 
me  another  artist  who  can  look  at  his  work 
92 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


and  make  of  it  a  neat  sum  in  arithmetic, 
as  you  do." 

Severance  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  am  not  all  artist,  thank  Heaven  !  " 

"  Not  always,  you  might  say,"  Mr.  At- 
wood  amended.  "  When  you  get  your  pa- 
lette in  your  hands,  you  are  an  artist  to 
frenzy,  but  the  minute  you  lay  it  down  the 
frenzy  goes»with  it.  Mrs.  Severance,  what 
are  you  doing  ?  " 

Marie  had  risen  from  her  divan  to  move 
quietly  about  the  room.  While  the  others 
talked  she  had  taken  the  yellow  cover  from 
the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  floor  and  re- 
placed it  by  a  white  one.  Like  a  squirrel 
visiting  its  hoards,  she  had  gone  from 
one  hiding-place  to  another,  bringing  from 
each  something  for  her  table.  Finally  she 
opened  the  door  of  a  small  stove  that  stood 
in  a  corner,  and  drew  out  a  leg  of  lamb  of 
proportionate  size.  As  Mr.  Atwood  turned 
to  speak  to  her,  he  saw  the  well-spread 
board. 

"  Where  did  that  come  from  ? "  he  said. 
"  I  have  always  wished  to  be  present  at 
this  operation,  and  now  I  have  been  here 
93 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


without  knowing  it.  Severance,  you  surely 
have  a  clever  wife.  Look  at  this  temperate 
feast,  —  sacrificial  lamb  at  the  head,  consol- 
ing salad  here,  cheerful  apples  there,  and 
wine  to  gladden  the  heart.  Is  this  third 
plate  for  me  ?  " 

"  When  your  plate  is  not  on  the  table,  it 
shall  wait  there  in  the  closet,"  said  Marie. 
"  Come,  eat  with  us.  All  is  ready." 

Mr.  Atwood  shook  his  head. 

"This  mushroom  table  has  upset  my 
plans.  Mrs.  Severance,  I  was  about  to  ask 
a  favour  of  you.  But  first  tell  me  why  you 
have  never  shown  any  curiosity  regarding 
my  wife  ?  Did  you  know  I  had  one  ?  " 

Marie  laughed. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  so  much  as  that.  If  you 
ask  me  why  I  never  questioned  you  about 
her,  I  can  reply,  '  Because  I  hate  questions.' 
I  am  always  careful  to  say,  '  You  are  well, 
I  hope  ; '  never,  '  How  are  you  ? ' ' 

"  I  suppose,"  Mr.  Atwood  rejoined,  "that 
if  you  have  thought  at  all,  you  have  set  us 
down  as  old  married  people.  We  are  not  a 
young  couple,  at  least  one  of  us  is  not, 
but  our  coupling  is  young  enough.  We 
94 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


have  not  been  married  a  year,  Mrs.  Seve- 
rance. I  had  meant  to  ask  your  permission 
to  bring  Mrs.  Atwood  to  call  upon  you  to- 
day. As  it  is,  I  must  postpone  the  pleas- 
ure; for  I  left  her  in  a  picture  gallery 
down  the  street,  and  must  return  for  her." 

Malcolm  Severance  replied  by  opening 
the  door  of  the  closet  and  taking  out  a 
fourth  plate,  which  he  set  on  the  table. 

"  That  is  soon  settled,"  he  said.  "  It's 
our  last  plate,  though ;  if  any  one  else 
comes,  he  must  eat  off  his  hands." 

Marie  quickly  added  a  glass,  knife,  fork, 
and  spoon  to  the  plate  on  the  table.  She 
placed  a  chair  before  them. 

"  Madame  is  served,"  she  said  with  a 
wave  of  her  hand,  "  if  she  will  come ;  but 
can  she  stand  these  steps  of  ours  ? " 

"  She  is  not  so  old  as  I  am,  and  I  stand 
them  often  enough,"  Mr.  Atwood  answered, 
smiling. 

"  You  are  a  man.  Seven  flights  to  wind 
around  and  around  !  A  perfect  corkscrew. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  am  one  when  I  reach 
the  top.  It  is  making  one  of  my  legs  grow 
longer  than  the  other.  .  I  shall  be  glad  when 

95 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


it  does  myself.  It  will  be  so  much  easier  to 
climb  up  then." 

Her  husband  interrupted  her  half  an- 
grily :  — 

"  How  can  you  say  such  things,  Marie  ? 
Your  figure  is  perfect." 

Mrs.  Severance  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  That  is  resentment  for  his  model,  not 
his  wife.  Go,  bring  Madame,  Mr.  Atwood. 
The  lamb  will  be  cold.  Stay,  it  shall  wait 
for  you  in  the  oven  ;  only  hurry." 

Mr.  Atwood  still  lingered. 

"  I  accept  your  invitation  for  us  both,"  he 
said ;  "  but  be  prepared,  Mrs.  Severance, 
you  will  not  see  what  you  expect." 

"  I  have  lived  in  seven  cities,  and  lived 
as  many  lives  as  a  cat  in  each.  All  that  in 
twenty-one  years.  Mr.  Atwood,  I  expect 
that  which  I  see." 

As  Mr.  Atwood  left  the  room,  Severance 
turned  to  his  easel.  He  drew  the  cover 
from  his  picture,  and  was  standing  looking 
down  at  it  when  his  wife  joined  him. 

"  Not  curious  !  "  she  said.  "  I  have  longed 
to  know  something  about  his  wife.  Mal- 
colm, I  have  a  curiosity  which  can  hardly 
96 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


wait  seven  flights  and  down  the  street. 
Malcolm,  you  don't  hear  a  word  I  speak 
to  you." 

She  picked  up  a  long  brush  that  lay  near 
by  with  her  husband's  palette,  and  struck 
him  with  it  on  the  shoulder.  He  looked  up 
with  a  start. 

"  See,"  she  cried,  "  would  you  love  me 
better  if  I  were  like  this  —  bristles  for  hair 
and  a  stick  for  a  body  ?  " 

Severance  took  the  brush  from  her,  laugh- 
ingly kissing  her  hand. 

"  What  would  then  become  of  my  Cigar- 
ette Maker  ?  " 

He  nodded  toward  a  second  canvas 
leaning  against  the  wall.  Marie's  face 
changed. 

"  Malcolm,"  she  said  slowly,  "  listen. 
Some  day  I  shall  startle  you.  I  am  your 
wife,  flesh  and  blood,  not  your  model.  Sup- 
pose to-morrow  I  say  to  you,  '  I  will  pose  no 
more  for  you.'  What  then  ?  " 

"  You  would  not  say  it.  You  are  my  in- 
spiration, Marie." 

"  I  am  your  wife.     I  may  say  it." 

"  No  ;  you  will  not." 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  You  know  me  ;  I  will  not.  I  am  a  fool. 
That  is,  I  am  half  a  fool.  Were  I  all  fool, 
or  all  knowing,  it  might  be  better  for  us 
both.  I  hear  them  coming,  Malcolm.  Tell 
me  where  I  should  meet  Mrs.  Atwood  ?  In 
the  centre  of  the  room,  at  the  door,  half- 
way down  the  seven  flights,  —  where  ? " 

"  Here,"  answered  Severance,  "  as  they 
are  here  now."  He  opened  the  door  as  he 
spoke,  and  Mr.  Atwood  entered  with  Aline. 
Marie  came  forward  quickly. 

"  I  do  not  need  an  introduction  to  Mr. 
Atwood's  wife,"  she  said  prettily,  taking 
Aline's  hand  between  both  of  hers.  "  If 
you  do  not  know  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you 
here,  let  me  tell  you  so.  Mrs.  Atwood, 
your  husband  has  promised  that  you  will 
break  bread  with  us.  I  will  not  make  you 
mount  to  my  bedroom."  She  glanced 
quizzically  at  the  shelf.  "  You  see  we  have 
imported  some  Paris  customs.  But  seven 
flights  are  enough ;  let  me  take  your  wrap- 
pings from  you,  —  and  first,  let  me  present 
my  husband." 

Aline  accepted  the  introduction,  allowed 
Marie  to  remove  both  gloves  and  wraps, 
98 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


and  took  her  place  at  the  table  with  what 
was  for  her  an  unusual  awkwardness.  She 
was  conscious  of  the  fact,  and  annoyed  by 
it.  That  she  was  a  woman  of  the  world 
she  believed.  But  this  was  not  her  world. 
Her  husband  sat  in  his  place  as  easy  as  if 
at  his  own  table 

"  What  is  it,  Severance  ? "  he  asked.  "  You 
want  me  to  preside,  do  you?  Of  course 
I  will.  You  have  distinguished  yourself 
enough  for  one  day.  I  speak  to  be  toast- 
master  too.  Open  the  wine,  while  I  carve 
the  lamb.  '  Mary,  have  a  little  lamb  ? '  Par- 
don the  liberty,  Severance."  ' 

Mrs.  Severance  laughed  gayly. 

"  I  can  quote  your  nursery  rhymes  too. 
'  Mary  loves  the  lamb,  you  know.' " 

"I  see  you  one  better,"  added  Severance, 
wrestling  with  the  corkscrew.  " '  Every- 
where that  Mary  is  the  lamb  is  sure  to 
go.'" 

"  Perhaps  it  is  that '  she  is  always  kind,'  " 
ventured  Aline,  glancing  at  Mrs.  Severance. 
She  flushed  as  she  spoke.  This  was  an 
atmosphere  wholly  foreign  to  her,  and  she 
felt  it.  Therefore  she  made  a  special  ef- 
99 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


fort.  Mr.  Atwood  laid  down  the  carving 
knife  and  fork. 

"  Severance,"  he  said,  "  you  need  not 
open  that  bottle,  my  friend.  This  table  is 
too  sparkling  as  it  is.  I  think  the  Master's 
visit  has  intoxicated  us  all.  Here  is  my 
ever-sedate  wife  adding  her  quotum.  You 
have  already  filled  the  glasses  ?  Very  well, 
then.  Here's  to  the  future  as  we  see  it 
to-day ;  to  be  drunk  standing,  and  every 
glass  meeting  over  the  table." 

Aline's  glass  clicked  with  the  rest.  As 
they  sat  down  again  after  the  toast,  Marie 
leaned  toward  her  across  the  table. 

"I  know  who  is  kind,"  she  said  grate- 
fully. "  I  fear  we  are  too  exultant  for  civil- 
ity to-day,  Mrs.  Atwood.  You  are  very 
good  to  lend  yourself  to  our  mood.  My 
father  used  to  say  to  me  that  nothing  en- 
deared one  to  others  so  much  as  that.  He 
was  so  kind  himself!  I  remember  once 
when  he  was  very  old  that  he  called  on  an 
old  lady  who  was  sorely  distressed  because 
her  false  teeth  were  broken,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  receive  him  toothless.  What  did 
my  father  do  ?  He  turned  his  back  for  a 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


moment,  and  when  he  faced  her  again  he 
was  toothless  also." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mr.  Atwood,  "  there  was  a 
perfect  breeding.  But,  do  you  know,  false 
teeth  are  a  triumph  of  civilisation  at  which 
I  still  wonder.  Upon  my  word,  I  expect  to 
see  the  day  when  we  can  buy  artificial  feel- 
ings over  a  counter,  so  much  per  pound  ; 
who'll  buy?" 

"Not  I,"  Aline  answered  ;  "real  feelings 
are  troublesome  enough."  Severance  looked 
up  at  her  quickly. 

"  For  me  that  day  has  come,"  he  said. 
"  What  feelings  and  what  lofty  ideals  I 
have  Marie  supplies  for  me." 

Marie  interrupted  him  reproachfully. 

"  Malcolm,  Mrs.  Atwood  will  believe 
you." 

"  Then  she  will  believe  the  truth.  Per- 
sonally, my  ideals  are  distinctly  low.  I 
would  far  rather  be  a  live  coward  than  a 
dead  hero.  Mrs.  Atwood,  I  should  have 
given  up  the  struggle  and  become  a  sign- 
painter  long  ago  had  Marie  let  me  be.  It 
is  she  who  scourges  me  on  and  keeps  me 
whipped  up  to  a  proper  point." 


Links  in  a  Chain 


"  The  reaction  has  set  in,"  said  Mr.  At- 
wood.  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  it.  How 
long  does  this  mood  usually  last,  Mrs. 
Severance  ?  Did  you  confess  these  mental 
backslidings  and  wifely  exhortings  to  the 
Master,  Malcolm  ?  " 

Severance  began  to  laugh. 

"  Did  not  Marie  tell  you  how  the  Master 
inquired  into  my  domestic  life  ?  " 

Marie  was  bending  over  her  plate. 

"  I  could  not  remember  everything,"  she 
said. 

Mr.  Atwood  glanced  at  her  as  she  spoke. 

"  Mrs.  Severance  told  me  the  whole 
story,"  he  answered  somewhat  quickly. 
"  I  repeated  it  to  Mrs.  Atwood  on  the  way 
here." 

"  No,  I  did  not  tell  you  what  he  refers 
to,"  said  Marie,  looking  up  again.  "  Tell 
it  yourself,  Malcolm."  She  drew  the  salad 
toward  her,  cutting  out  the  stalks  from  the 
lettuce  and  larding  the  shredded  leaves 
with  oil. 

"  It  was  the  most  absurd  thing.  I  told 
Marie  the  Master  must  not  suspect  her  ex- 
istence; that  he  would  never  understand 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


our  living  in  this  fashion.  You  know  he 
would  have  thought  it  simply  suicidal,  and 
washed  his  hands  of  me  in  tha  beginning. 
As  it  was,  he  looked  all  about  him  —  at  the 
stove,  the  table,  the  shelf,  the  divan.  I 
could  see  Marie's  work-basket  where  you 
forgot  it  on  the  divan,  my  dear,  and  I 
expected  an  accusing  finger  and  '  What's 
that? '  each  moment.  Fortunately  he  over- 
looked it,  or  it  conveyed  no  impression. 
'  You  cook  here,  I  see,'  he  said.  '  Yes.' — 
'And  sleep  up  there?' — 'Yes.' — 'You  have 
no  chum  ? ' —  '  No.'  He  literally  beamed. 
'  That's^  right,  right.  Live  for  one  thing 
alone.  Give  your  whole  self,  to  it.  Half 
a  loaf  may  be  better  than  no  bread ;  half  a 
heart  is  worse  than  none  at  all.'  Marie, 
what  are  you  doing  with  that  vinegar  ?  " 

Marie  pushed  the  salad  bowl  from  her. 

"  Spoiling  the  salad,"  she  answered. 
"  My  hand  slipped." 

Mr.  Atwood  stretched  out  his  arm,  lifting 
the  bowl  and  setting  it  on  the  table  before 
himself. 

"  Let  me  doctor  it,"  he  said.  "  You  two 
children  can  do  nothing  to-day.  Severance 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


couldn't  carve,  and  you  mess  the  salad. 
Here,  give  me  the  salt  and  pepper.  Sever- 
ance, suppose  the  Master  knew  your  full 
cup  of  iniquity  —  that  you  had  not  only 
hampered  your  career  with  a  wife,  without 
whom  you  would  be  as  much  good  to  the 
world  as  a  saltless  salad,  but  that  in  marry- 
ing her  you  had  spoiled  another  artist." 

"An  artist ! "  repeated  Marie  scornfully.  "  I 
plumbed  my  art  long  ago.  In  posing,  mak- 
ing costumes,  suggesting  occasionally,  my 
art  finds  as  full  expression  as  it  deserves." 

"  H-e-a-r-t,"  spelled  Mr.  Atwood  in  a  low 
voice  to  Marie  ;  "  add  he  to  woman's  art, 
and  you  see  what  you  get." 

Marie  laughed.  "  I  had  plenty  of  time 
to  choose  between  the  syllables.  I  kept 
Malcolm  at  bay  for  a  long  term.  He  was 
my  lover  from  his  entrance  into  Paris  and 
the  art  class,  and  a  very  difficult  lover  he 
was  to  hold  back." 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,"  answered  Mr. 
Atwood.  "  Look  at  him  now,  preaching  his 
soul  out  in  sophistries  to  Aline  over  an 
apple  seed  and  she  drinking  it  all  in.  Mrs. 
Severance,  the  longer  I  live  the  more  I 
104 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


realise  that  what  a  man  says  to  a  woman 
matters  not  at  all.  It's  the  manner  of  say- 
ing that  counts.  The  most  impassioned 
love  letter  I  ever  read  was  written  on  a 
typewriter.  I  assure  you  it  brought  tears 
to  my  eyes  as  I  read  it,  but  in  spite  of  all  I 
could  do  it  broke  the  engagement." 

At  the  other  side  of  the  table  Aline  and 
Severance  were  talking  together. 

"  Mr.  Severance,"  Aline  had  begun, 
abruptly  for  her,  "will  you  tell  me  if  you 
meant  it  when  you  said  just  now  that  you 
had  no  feelings." 

Severance  turned  his  reflective  eyes  upon 
Aline's  face. 

"  Did  you  mean  it,"  she  continued,  "when 
you  said  that  your  ideals  were  low  ?  " 

Still  gazing  at  her,  he  smiled  siightly. 
»"Are  your  ideals  low?"  he  asked.  Aline 
flushed.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you," 
he  went  on ;  "  why  should  they  not  be  ? " 

He  drew  out  an  apple  from  the  bowl  of 
fruit  on  the  table,  and  twisted  it  in  his 
hands,  ripping  it  open.  Some  of  the  black 
seeds  fell  on  the  tablecloth. 

"That  was  what  I  wanted  to  show  you. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Look  at  this  seed.  The  ideal  for  which  it 
stands  is  an  apple-tree.  If  it  find  proper 
soil  it  is  one." 

He  picked  up  the  seed  in  his  fingers,  and, 
biting  the  kernel  from  it,  flung  the  husk 
away.  "  What  is  it  now  ?  A  seed  fallen 
by  the  wayside.  I  was  not  the  soil  for  it. 
We  don't  sow  the  ideals  or  make  ourselves  ; 
we  are  simply  born,  and  with  or  without 
feeling,  as  the  case  may  be.  So  your  ideals 
are  low  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  As  you  put  it,  I 
was  not  born  to  harbour  high  ideals." 

"  Then  why  should  you  pretend  to  them  ? 
Do  you  conscientiously  live  up,  or  rather 
down,  to  those  ideals  you  have  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"  Contentedly  ? " 

"  Comparatively."  » 

"Then  you  are  braver  than  I.  I  live 
up  to,  or  rather  reach  after,  what  Marie 
expects  of  me,  not  what  I  am.  My  apple- 
seed  grows  in  an  artificial  soil  largely  pro- 
vided by  Marie,  and  at  great  labour.  I 
possessed  personally  about  a  flower-pot  of 
ambition,  where  the  wretched  little  seed  got 
106 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


started  one  day.  Now  I  have  got  to  grow 
a  tree.  I  often  wish  some  one  had  bitten 
the  seed  in  two,  and  eaten  it  as  I  do  this 
one.  Have  you  never  eaten  an  apple-seed? 
Pray  take  one,  and  remember  you  are  eat- 
ing concentrated  tree." 

Aline  took  the  seed  he  offered. 

"The  flavour  is  very  delicate,"  she  said, 
"but  you  make  me  feel  as  if  I  were  com- 
mitting murder." 

"No,"  he  answered;  "what  we  can't 
grow,  let  us  eat  —  to-morrow  we  may  die. 
Do  you  know,  I  love  every  part  of  an  apple. 
I  can  munch  and  munch  and  dream  of  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  Apples  are  my  flesh- 
pots.  I  ought  to  be  farmer  of  a  New  Eng- 
land apple  orchard  to-day,  as  my  father 
and  grandfather  were  before  me.  There  is 
nothing  like  a  country  life.  A  glorious  self- 
satisfaction  and  fat  content  with  all  things 
shut  one  in  deliciously.  I  dream  of  drop- 
ping back  into  it.  Some  day  I  shall.  My 
earliest  recollection  is  of  lying  awake  to 
listen  for  the  apples  dropping  from  an  old 
tree  that  was  too  decrepit  to  hold  its  fruit. 
I  could  hear  them  thud  and  roll  over  the 
107 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


roof  of  the  porch  outside  my  bedroom 
window  to  the  ground  below.  My  youth 
was  filled  with  apples.  When  I  hear  the 
word  country  I  think  of  apples,  orchards  of 
them.  From  the  hills  that  overlooked  our 
farm  I  could  sit  by  the  hour  and  gaze  down 
on  the  lines  and  lines  of  trees  standing 
like  combs  below  me,  green  at  one  season, 
white  and  pink  at  another,  then  brown  and 
bare,  but  always  low  boughed  and  with 
twisting  limbs.  It  was  those  trees  that 
drove  me  into  being  an  artist  —  those  trees 
first,  and  after  that,  Paris  and  Marie." 

"  Still  haranguing,  Severance  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Atwood.  "  What  is  your  text  ?  " 

Severance  turned  indolently. 

"  I  was  telling  Mrs.  Atwood  that  I  was 
born  in  a  briar  patch,  and  bricks  and 
mortar  stifle  me." 

"Nonsense !  "  said  Mr.  Atwood,  laughing  ; 
"  in  an  ethical  briar  patch  you  were  born  ; 
but  as  for  bricks  and  mortar,  the  dust  of 
the  city  is  the  breath  of  your  nostrils, 
Malcolm.  Aline,  are  you  watching  the 
hour  ?  Mrs.  Severance  will  pardon  us  for 
doing  so.  We  have  an  engagement  later." 
1 08 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  We  have  it  now,"  said  Aline,  glancing 
at  her  watch. 

Mr.  Atwood  rose  unceremoniously. 

"  Then  we  must  hurry  away.  Where  are 
your  wraps  and  gloves,  Aline  ?  " 

Mrs.  Severance  rose  also,  bringing  Aline 
her  wrappings. 

"  There  is  a  rather  nice  question  between 
us,  Mrs.  Severance,"  said  Aline,  as  she 
accepted  her  assistance.  "  Do  I  owe  you 
a  dinner  call,  or  do  you  owe  me  a  return  of 
my  first  visit  ?  " 

"  We  may  leave  it  to  whichever  one  of  us 
passes  the  other's  home  first,"  answered 
Marie  easily,  turning  to  receive  Mr.  At- 
wood's  farewell  words. 

Aline  was  left  for  the  moment  with 
Severance. 

"  Well ! "  he  said. 

He  was  smiling  at  her  as  he  spoke.  Aline 
suddenly  held  out  her  hand. 

"You  understand  one  quickly,  Mr.  Sev- 
erance. Perhaps  your  apple  seed  meant 
more  to  me  than  you  know.  Or  rather, 
you  watered  a  seed  already  well  set.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  you  in  my  home." 
109 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


As  they  drove  away  from  the  Severances' 
door,  Mr.  Atwood  turned  to  his  wife. 
"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  and  Aline  laughed  as 
she  looked  up. 

"You  are  the  second  person  who  has 
said  '  Well '  to  me  in  the  last  five  minutes. 
Do  I  look  so  thoughtful  ?  " 

"  A  little,  perhaps.  What  do  you  think 
of  the  Severances'  interior  ?  " 

"  I  found  it  interesting.  But  how  uncon- 
ventional they  are,  and  you  with  them  !  I 
never  saw  you  so  before." 

"  You  have  for  the  first  time  seen  Bohemia 
at  home.  They  are  mild  gipsies,  however. 
So  you  found  them  interesting  ?  " 

"  I  found  Mr.  Severance  unusual." 

"  And  Mrs.  Severance  ?  " 

"  She  seemed  more  like  ourselves." 

"  In  reality  she  is  the  gipsy.  The  history 
of  Severance  is  written.  He  will  do  better 
work  every  year,  and  become  wholly  civ- 
ilized." 

"  He  will  succeed,  then  ?  " 

"  Inevitably.  There  is  nothing  inevi- 
table about  Mrs.  Severance.  She  has  a 
strange  element  of  unexpectedness  in  her. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


I  suppose  she  is  the  result  of  an  American 
mother  and  a  French  father.  I  know  she 
lived  a  roving  life,  and  I  fancy  a  hard  one, 
before  her  marriage.  I  am  always  reminded 
of  a  shaddock  by  her  —  a  taste  of  sweet  and 
of  bitter,  with  a  wild  flavour  suggested,  and 
a  tendency  to  fly  in  your  face.  I  do  not 
thoroughly  understand  her.  Severance  does 
perfectly  when  he  takes  the  trouble,  which 
he  did  not  to-day." 

"  I  should  think  he  might  well  be  capable 
of  understanding  a  more  difficult,  a  more 
reserved  nature,"  Aline  answered.  She 
looked  thoughtfully  out  of  the  carriage 
window  into  the  street. 

Her  husband  smiled  as  he  watched  her. 
"  Too  well,"  he  answered.  "  Severance 
can  lose  his  own  personality  in  that  of 
those  he  talks  with,  if  he  desires  it.  Aline, 
did  I  think  you  likely  to  see  much  of  him, 
I  would  drop  you  a  word  of  warning.  He 
has  a  clever  mind,  but  it  is  new  made 
each  morning,  like  a  feather-bed,  and  he 
does  not  always  think  before  he  talks. 
He  wounded  his  wife  to-day  by  his  care- 
lessness." 

in 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  heard  nothing." 

"  How  would  you,  of  all  women,  like 
being  shelved  and  repudiated  in  your  own 
hearing  as  she  was  to-day  during  the  Mas- 
ter's visit  ?  Mrs.  Severance  loves  her  hus- 
band, and  she  is  more  or  less  jealous  of  the 
art  to  which  she  is  sacrificed." 

Aline's  lip  curled. 

"  He  sacrificed  much  in  marrying  her.  I 
should  think  she  would  be  proud  of  his 
work." 

"  She  is  both,  —  jealous  and  proud.  You 
do  not  understand  jealousy,  do  you,  Aline  ?  " 

"  It  disgusts  me." 

"  I  could  not,  then,  make  you  jealous^?  " 
Mr.  Atwood  laid  his  hand  playfully  on  his 
wife's  arm.  She  drew  away. 

"  In  the  open  streets  !  "  she  remonstrated. 
"  People  will  say  we  are  sentimental  if  not 
jealous." 

"And  that  would  equally  disgust  you, 
would  it  not  ?  No,  Aline,  we  could  be  ac- 
cused of  neither.  We  are  known  as  a  prac- 
tical, jog-trot  couple'." 

Aline  glanced  quickly  from  her  husband 
to  the  card-case  she  held  in  her  hand. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  And  you,"  she  questioned,  "  could  you  be 
jealous  ?  You  speak  of  my  lack  of  jealousy, 
but  I  also  might  complain." 

"  Was  I  complaining  ?  I  think  we  never 
have  and  never  will  give  each  other  cause 
for  uneasiness.  What  have  you  to  tell  me, 
Aline?" 

"  How  did  you  know  I  had  anything  to 
tell  ?  " 

"  You  always  grow  tentative  when  you 
have.  What  is  it  ?  " 

Aline  hesitated,  fingering  her  card-case, 
which  she  half  opened. 

"  Mr.  McHenry,"  she  said,  "  has  grown 
indefinitely  impertinent  lately." 

"  I  feared  so.     What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  done  nothing  without  con- 
sulting you.  I  have  ignored  until  to-day  — 
and  then  "  — 

Again  opening  the  card-case,  she  drew 
out  a  letter,  which  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion she  gave  to  Mr.  Atwood.  As  he  un- 
folded and  read  it,  his  brow  reddened. 
He  folded  the  letter  again,  and  put  it  into 
his  own  pocket-book. 

"  Thank  you,  Aline,"  he  said ;  "  you  are 

"3 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


very  wise,  my  child.  You  have  not  yet  re- 
plied, I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  The  impertinence  is  still  veiled  enough 
to  ignore.  When  you  reach  home,  write  a 
note  to  Mr.  McHenry  in  my  name,  asking 
him  to  luncheon  to-morrow  and  to  ride  with 
us  afterward." 

Aline  drew  back.  "  You  care  no  more 
than  that,"  she  said  bitterly,  "  and  I  was 
fool  enough  to  be  afraid  to  tell  you  !  " 

For  the  second  time  Mr.  Atwood  took  his 
wife's  hand  in  his,  despite  her  resistance. 

"  Never  mind,  Aline,  no  one  can  see  or 
misinterpret.  My  child,  matters  are  not 
quite  right  between  you  and  me.  They 
have  not  been  so  for  some  time.  We  must 
have  one  of  our  plain  talks,  and  why  not 
now  ?  The  truth  is,  we  are  somewhat  con- 
fused. I  am  now  neither  your  guardian 
nor  your  husband.  We  have  got  to  find  a 
new  basis,  or  go  back  to  the  old  one.  Dear, 
there  is  nothing  to  cry  about.  I  am  not 
blaming  you.  Come,  there  is  the  curtain 
pulled  down.  Now,  lean  against  me,  and 
cry  if  you  want.  Why,  what  is  it,  Aline  ? 
114 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Poor  child,  you  can't  tell  me  ;  for  you  don't 
know,  and  I  can  do  nothing  to  help  you. 
You  must  not  think  me  careless  of  my  wife. 
My  personal  impulse  is  to  brain  Mr.  Mc- 
Henry,  but  you  know  there  are  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  braining  a  fool.  To-morrow 
I  had  meant  that  he  should  ride  with 
me  alone.  You  can  stay  at  home  on 
some  excuse.  He  will  not  be  offensive 
to  you  after  that  ride,  and  not  be  quite  sure 
why,  either.  Isn't  that  better  than  letting 
him  see  you  understand  his  impertinence  ? 
My  child,  perhaps  I  should  have  spoken  to 
you  of  this  before.  These  impertinences 
are  what  you  will  have  to  expect  for  a  time  ; 
and,  as  I  said,  I  can  help  you  very  little. 
You  know  we  have  made  no  pretence  at 
a  marriage  of  sentiment.  People  cannot 
divine  what  a  Shylock  I  should  be  for  every 
pound  of  flesh  that  is  mine.  To  be  very 
bald,  you  represent  to  the  McHenrys  of 
this  world  the  young  wife  of  a  man  nearly 
double  your  age,  and  fair  game  for  imper- 
tinence until  you  yourself  make  your  posi- 
tion perfectly  clear.  You  alone  can  do 
that.  But  you  can  with  time  to  help  you." 
"5 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  lifted  her  head,  drying  her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  cried  indignantly, 
"  that  they  dare  to  think  ?  "  — 

"  In  plain  words,  Aline,  they  think  you  are 
not  so  cold  as  your  marriage  would  assert." 

Aline  clenched  her  hands. 

"  I  am  ;  such  doubts  insult  me." 

"  Nevertheless,  they  doubt,  and  patience 
alone  can  prove  to  them  that  you  are  the 
ice  maiden  you  and  I  know  you  to  be. 
Aline,  I  should  feel  you  as  safe  in  your  own 
drawing-room,  with  the  most  dangerous  of 
men  whispering  in  your  ear,  as  another 
woman  alone  on  a  desert  island." 

He  drew  her  to  him  as  if  in  apology. 
"  Does  that  please  you  ?  "  he  asked  in  a 
new  tone.  "  Are  you  comforted  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  slowly.  Then  looking 
up  into  his  face,  she  asked  a  sudden  ques- 
tion, which  left  him  for  the  moment  without 
a  reply. 

"  But  why  does  it  displease  you  ?  " 

"  I !  Can  a  man  be  displeased  that  he  is 
so  sure  of  his  wife  ?  " 

As  she  still  gazed  at  him,  he  bent  to  kiss 
her  brow. 

116 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"My  child,"  he  said,  "you  are  right.  I 
was  lying  to  you.  Some  day  you  may 
understand,  Aline,  but  not  now,  my  little 
Undine,  not  now.  See,  we  are  at  home. 
You  have  just  fifteen  minutes  in  which  to 
change  your  gown.  Dry  your  eyes  and 
hurry." 

"Dry  your  eyes  and  hurry,"  repeated 
Aline  to  herself. 

Her  maid  had  lifted  off  her  bonnet,  and 
was  rearranging  her  mistress's  hair.  Aline 
looked  into  the  glass  before  which  she  sat. 

"  Dry  your  eyes  and  hurry  —  yes,  that 
about  represents  my  life." 

As  she  glanced  down,  she  caught  sight 
of  a  glossy  brown  seed  nestling  in  a  fold  of 
her  ribbons.  Aline  took  it  out  carefully, 
and  looked  at  it  lying  in  the  palm  of  her 
hand. 

"  How  quickly  he  understood,"  she 
thought.  "If  I  am  born  so,  who  is  to 
blame  ? " 

Rising,  she  moved  toward  her  secretary, 
taking  with  her  a  piece  of  jeweller's  cot- 
ton which  lay  on  her  dressing-table.  Open- 
ing her  stamp-box,  she  laid  the  cotton  in 
117 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


one  of  the  compartments,  set  the  seed  care- 
fully upon  it,  and  closed  the  lid.  Near  the 
stamp-box  lay  three  tickets  of  admission  to 
a  private  collection  of  paintings,  which  was 
to  open  the  following  day.  The  tickets 
were  difficult  to  obtain.  Mr.  Atwood  had 
expressed  the  wish  that  she  should  accom- 
pany him  to  the  exhibition.  After  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  Aline  hastily  caught  up 
an  envelope,  thrusting  into  it  the  third 
ticket,  with  one  of  her  cards.  Again  open- 
ing the  little  box  she  stamped  her  envelope, 
addressed  it  to  Malcolm  Severance,  and 
handed  it  over  to  her  maid  as  she  finished 
her  hasty  toilette. 

Later  in  the  day  Mr.  Atwood,  looking 
hurriedly  for  a  stamp,  wandered  into  his 
wife's  room  and  to  her  desk.  As  he  opened 
her  stamp-box,  he  saw  the  plump  little  apple- 
seed  lying  there  on  its  cotton  nest,  and  took 
it  up  in  his  fingers  curiously  at  first,  then 
turning  it  over,  he  smiled  half  sadly,  half 
with  amusement. 

"  No  good  ever  yet  came  of  a  woman  and 
an  apple,"  he  said,  half  aloud  ;  "  still  "  — 
he  laid  the  seed  back  in  the  box.  "Ah, 
118 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


well,  it  can  do  no  harm,  and  may  serve  to 
interest  her." 

****** 
Mrs.  Severance  lay  on  her  divan,  but  she 
was  not  playing  her  favorite  jewsharp  as 
on  the  day  when  Mr.  Atwood  discovered 
her  there  three  months  before.  She  was 
lying  with  her  feet  crossed,  her  hands  idle 
by  her  sides,  and  her  eyes  gazing  out  of 
the  window.  There  were  other  differences 
too,  in  these  three  months.  Where  the 
lines  of  Marie's  throat  had  been  gracefully 
slender,  they  were  now  almost  attenuated, 
and  her  figure  had  lost  some  of  its  pretty 
curves.  The  room  also  was  changed.  The 
stove  in  the  corner  was  gone  ;  through  an 
open  door  beyond  you  could  see  where  it 
had  been  set  in  a  small  apartment,  half 
dining-room,  half  kitchen.  The  curtain 
had  also  been  taken  away  from  the  great 
shelf,  and  its  bedroom  furnishings  moved 
to  a  little  closet  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
All  signs  pointed  to  more  prosperous  days, 
yet  Marie  Severance  lay  on  her  divan  either 
staring  out  of  the  window,  or  with  eye- 
lids wearily  closed.  When  Malcolm's  step 
119 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


sounded  on  the  stair  outside,  she  raised  her 
head,  listening,  and  looked  up  smiling  as 
he  entered.  He  came  toward  her,  seating 
himself  on  the  divan  by  her  side. 

"Tired?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  answered  ;  "  only  lazy. 

Malcolm  laid  his  fingers  on  her  temples, 
to  draw  them  down  her  face  and  throat, 
following  their  outlines. 

"  You  are  too  thin,  Marie." 

"  Am  I  ?  It  makes  no  difference.  The 
Cigarette  Maker  is  finished.  Paint  me  as 
a  beggar  before  I  get  fat  again." 

"  You  are  feeling  well,  dear  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  well.     Why  shouldn't  I  be  ?  " 

"True,  we  have  plenty  to  eat  and  drink 
now,  but  you  seem  to  grow  thin  on  it. 
Perhaps  you  are  doing  too  much.  Suppose 
in  place  of  having  a  char-woman  in  twice 
a  week,  we  have  her  here  every  morning. 
We  can  afford  it  now,  thanks  to  our  fairy 
godmother." 

Marie  turned  from  him. 

"  No,  I  want  no  help  :  I  am  quite  well. 
Malcolm,  you  irritate  me.  Success  is 
thanks  to  yourself." 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


'If  Mrs.  Atwood  had  not  done  all  she 
has,  you  would  have  seen  the  difference." 

"  If  she  had  not  done  it,  some  one  else 
would.  You  were  ripe  for  it,  that's  all." 

"  Well,  we  won't  quarrel  as  to  the  bridge. 
The  great  point  is,  here  I  am.  Did  you 
sew  the  button  on  my  coat,  dear  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  Bring  me  the 
coat  and  my  work-basket,  Malcolm.  Yes, 
that's  right.  Did  you  expect  me  to  sew  on 
a  button  which  you  did  not  give  me  ? 
Where  is  it  ? " 

"  Lost :  you  must  evolve  one  from  your 
inner  consciousness,  Marie  ;  and  if  it's  not 
worth  a  button,  it's  not  worth  much." 

Marie  laughed,  turning  the  coat  over  on 
her  knee. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  this  is  worth  a 
button,  either." 

"  Give  it  away,  then :  I  have  another. 
What  are  clothes  to  me  now?  I'm  that 
reckless !  " 

Marie  stroked  down  the  velvet  collar 
of  his  coat  with  the  palms  of  her  hands. 
"  Malcolm,  do  you  remember  when  I  re- 
newed this  velvet  collar  for  you  ?  We  were 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


just  married.     I  had  only  a  remnant  to  use, 
and   had  to  piece  it  with    a  seam  in  the . 
middle  of  the   back.     You  had  worn  the 
collar  in  rags,  but  you  hated  that  seam." 

"  Of  course  I  did  :  no  man's  collar  has  a 
seam  up  the  back." 

"  So  you  pointed  out  to  me  on  every  neck 
we  walked  behind  that  winter.  Malcolm, 
now  that  you  have  done  with  the  coat,  I  am 
going  to  confess  to  you.  After  I  relined  it, 
there  was  always  a  twist  on  one  of  the  tails 
which  I  never  could  get  out,  and  which 
wagged  in  the  queerest  way  when  you 
walked.  I  used  to  slip  behind  you  in 
agonies  of  laughter." 

Her  husband  laughed  with  her  good-na- 
turedly, tapping  her  cheek  with  his  finger. 

"  No  more  relining  now.  Those  days  are 
past,  thank  Heaven !  " 

Marie  looked  up  wistfully. 
"  Yet  they  were  happy  days,  Malcolm. 
We  did  everything  together.     Do  you  re- 
member our  papering  this  room  ourselves  ?  " 

"  I  remember  your  using  the  mortar  as  a 
pincushion  until  we  did,  and  my  being 
perched  on  the  ladder  while  you  pasted  be- 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


low,  handing  me  up  the  stickiest  paper. 
We  have  had  some  good  times,  Marie,  but 
there  are  better  to  come." 

"  I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  am  so 
lonely,  Malcolm." 

"  That  is  the  price  of  a  successful  hus- 
band. What  is  that  on  the  table  ?  " 

"  A  letter  for  you." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  From  Mrs. 
Atwood.  Let  me  see.  Another  private 
view.  That's  well.  I  wanted  that.  She 
is  very  thoughtful." 

"For  herself.  Do  you  think  she  would 
ask  you  if  she  did  not  desire  it  ? " 

Malcolm  turned  toward  his  wife. 

"  Marie,  why  do  you  always  speak  in  that 
tone  about  Mrs.  Atwood  ? " 

"  How  did  I  speak?    Was  the  tone  low  ?" 

Her  husband  was  laughing  as  he  remon- 
strated. 

"That  was  a  woman's  scratch,  Marie. 
Sometimes  I  think  you  positively  hate  Mrs. 
Atwood." 

"  I  do." 

"  She  is  not  conscious  of  offending  you." 

"  She  is  not  conscious  that  I  exist." 
123 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Severance  looked  up  with  the  quick  com- 
prehension peculiar  to  him,  laughing  again 
as  he  assented : 

"You  are  perfectly  right.  She  is  a  su- 
premely unconscious  being  toward  every- 
thing that  does  not  touch  herself.  For  her 
it  simply  does  not  exist.  The  attitude  lends 
to  her  a  peculiar  charm.  She  is  perfect 
of  a  kind.  Perfect  to  the  sight,  perfectly 
self-poised,  perfectly  cold,  and  each  man 
says  in  his  soul,  '  /  could  rouse  her.'  She 
is  as  a  perpetual  and  unconscious  flattery 
to  him,  if  you  can  understand  that." 

"  And  you  ?  Do  you  also  think  that  you 
could  rouse  her  ? " 

"  I  ?  I  accomplish  it  in  a  measure.  I 
can  at  least  understand  her.  We  are  alike 
in  some  ways." 

"  Malcolm,  you  are  not." 

"  Yes,  we  are.  You  don't  know,  Marie. 
Man  is  a  many-sided  being,  a  kind  of  hex- 
agon ;  even  his  wife  knows  but  one  or  two 
sides  of  him." 

"  Is  this  meant  as  explanation  of  your 
position  toward  Mrs.  Atwood  ? " 

"  How  often  must  I  explain  that  to  you  ? 
124 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


To  Mrs.  Atwood  I  represent  the  first  per- 
son who  has  understood  and  frankly  sym- 
pathized with  her  peculiar  temperament.  I 
give  her  what  moral,  or  immoral,  support 
she  needs ;  in  turn,  to  me  she  represents 
this."  He  held  up  the  ticket  in  his  hand. 
"  Admittance  to  every  place  I  need  to  go ; 
introductions  to  all  the  people  I  need  to 
know.  A  fair  exchange.  That  the  conse- 
quences are  good  we  need  only  glance 
about  us  to  see.  By  the  way,  dear,  how  do 
we  stand  financially?  Bollis  repeats  his 
offer  for  the  Cigarette  Maker.  Can  we 
afford  to  refuse  it  ? " 

"  Malcolm,  it  is  but  half  its  value." 

"  I  know ;  my  best  work  yet,  I  think. 
Can  we  keep  it  ? " 

"  We  must ;  but  I  think  we  easily  can." 
Marie  drew  a  key  from  her  pocket,  and,  open- 
ing the  drawer  of  her  work-table,  took  from  it 
a  leather  bag,  the  contents  of  which  she  emp- 
tied on  the  cloth.  She  looked  up  laughing, 
flushed  with  pleasure  as  Malcolm  whistled  at 
the  pile  of  money  poured  out  before  him. 

"  The  Cigarette  Maker  is  safe,"  he  said, 
tossing  over  the  heap.  "  But  if  I  had  been 
125 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


in  charge  of  affairs,  this  would  have  slipped 
away  like  water.  You  good  little  saving 
thing ! "  He  drew  his  wife  to  him  and 
kissed  her.  Marie  clung  to  him,  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Malcolm  ?  " 

"  Love  you,  child  !  You  were  born  for 
me  to  love.  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Better  than  any  one  in  the  world  ?  " 

"  In  or  out." 

She  turned  from  him  brightly,  gathering 
the  money  into  the  bag  again,  which  she 
locked  up  as  before.  Malcolm  had  moved 
to  the  window,  and  was  looking  out,  his 
hands  in  his  empty  pockets.  As  Marie 
approached  he  wheeled  abruptly. 

"  By  the  way,  Marie,  I  almost  forgot. 
This  is  Mrs.  Atwood's  birthday.  I  have 
not  a  cent  in  my  pockets,  and  I  must  send 
her  some  flowers.  As  the  greater  part  of  that 
pile  of  wealth  is  due  to  her  introductions, 
we  will  return  her  a  certain  per  cent  in  blos- 
soms." Marie  deliberately  passed  the  key 
from  her  hand  to  her  pocket. 

"  Not  with  my  consent,"  she  said  slowly, 
her  face  paling.     Malcolm  stared  at  her. 
126 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  What  do  you  mean,  child  ?  Your  con- 
sent !  Did  I  ask  your  consent,  or  need  to  ? " 

The  large  pupils  of  Marie's  eyes  grew 
larger,  her  jaw  set.  With  an  effort  at  com- 
posure she  sat  down  on  the  divan  and  lifted 
her  sewing  from  the  work-basket.  She  did 
not  look  up  as  Malcolm  seated  himself 
beside  her. 

"  Marie,  what  does  this  mean  ?  Put  that 
thing  down  and  answer  me."  He  took  the 
work  from  her  hands,  not  gently. 

The  long  line  of  his  wife's  throat  swelled. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  hot  with  anger. 

"Is  it  your  habit  to  send  tributes  of 
flowers  to  Mrs.  Atwood  ?  " 

"  And  if  it  were  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  what  I  suspected, 
that  is  .all.  Malcolm,  do  you  think  I  care 
for  all  these  comforts  ?  I  had  far  rather 
live  forever  as  we  have  lived  —  together  — 
than  suffer  this." 

"  Suffer  what  ?  Marie,  you  are  carrying 
this  too  far.  It  amounts  to  vulgar  jealousy. 
I  warn  you,  we  have  never  yet  quarrelled, 
but  we  may." 

"  Why  have  we  not  quarrelled  ?  Because 
127 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


I  have  stood  everything  with  only  timid 
remonstrances.  This  is  not  vulgar  jeal- 
ousy. So  long  as  you  were  absorbed  in 
your  art  as  art  alone,  I  bore  it.  I  will 
not  stand  its  being  personified  in  another 
woman." 

Severance  looked  into  his  wife's  face  with 
a  coldness  which  froze  the  words  on  her  lips. 

"  Your  mythology  is  at  fault,"  he  said  as 
he  rose.  "  The  god  of  art  is  personified  in 
a  man.  Give  me  that  key,  if  you  please." 

Marie  sat  like  a  stone.  Malcolm  held 
out  his  hand  impatiently.  "  The  key, 
Marie.  Must  I  remind  you  that  the  money 
is  mine  to  fling  in  the  gutter  if  I  choose." 

She  held  herself  rigidly,  and  his  anger  rose. 

"  Marie,  do  you  deliberately  refuse  me 
that  key  ?  "  She  still  sat  with  lips  tightly 
shut,  her  eyes  fixed  before  her. 

"  For  the  last  time,  Marie  ?  As  you  will, 
then." 

She  heard  the  door  open  and  shut ;  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps  on  the  stairs  grew 
fainter.  Marie  Severance  flung  herself  on 
her  knees  by  the  divan,  and,  with  her  face 
buried  in  the  cushions,  screamed  aloud. 
128 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Come  back ;  you  shall  have  it  "  — 

She  s.topped  her  own  mouth.  Her  fingers 
were  in  her  ears.  She  did  not  hear  the 
footsteps  die  away.  For  an  hour  she  lay 
there,  not  weeping,  only  clutching  the  cush- 
ions closer  to  her  breast.  When  she  raised 
her  head,  tears  could  not  have  changed  her 
face  more  than  it  was  changed.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  divan,  where  Malcolm  had 
sat,  she  saw  in  the  soft  pillow  the  mark  of 
his  arm.  Marie  rose  to  seize  the  pillow, 
beating  the  mark  out.  From  one  end  of 
the  little  room  to  the  other  she  paced 
back  and  forth,  moaning  under  her  breath, 
"  What  have  we  done  !  "  over  and  over. 

A  rap  at  the  door  made  her  start  as  if  at 
a  pistol-shot.  A  boy  entered,  bringing  a 
piece  of  paper,  which  she  tore  in  open- 
ing when  she  saw  the  handwriting.  The 
paper  was  simply  a  signed  order  from  her 
husband  to  deliver  the  Cigarette  Maker  to 
the  bearer.  Marie  drew  in  her  breath. 

"Where  do  you  come  from  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  From  Mr.  Bollis,"  the  boy  answered,  and 

Marie  grew  whiter.     She  stood  motionless, 

staring  at  him  until  he  plucked  her  by  the 

129 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


sleeve.  Marie  pointed  to  the  corner  where 
the  canvas  stood.  She  watched  it  wrapped 
and  taken  away  without  a  word,  then  again 
she  flung  herself  down,  and  the  tears  came. 
She  had  posed  for  this  picture  until  her 
body  ached  ;  she  had  steadied  her  weary 
voice  to  encourage  the  hand  that  painted ; 
she  had  loved  and  laboured  and  slaved  and 
toiled,  and  now,  to  gratify  the  vanity  of  one 
who  neither  toiled  nor  spun,  it  was  gone. 

Marie  ceased  weeping  when  there  were 
no  more  tears.  As  she  turned  wretchedly 
on  her  couch,  her  hand,  falling  to  the  floor, 
touched  the  envelope  which  Aline  had 
that  day  sent,  and  which  Malcolm  had 
dropped.  She  shuddered,  drawing  back 
from  the  contact.  At  that  moment  came 
a  second  knock  at  the  door.  She  moved 
to  rise,  but  sank  back  feebly.  When  the 
knock  was  repeated,  in  answer  to  her  weak, 
"  Enter,"  Aline  opened  the  door,  panting 
and  rosy  with  her  climb  up  the  stairs, 
her  bosom  laden  with  pink  roses.  She 
smiled  over  them  at  the  other  woman  on 
her  couch. 

"  As  you  never  come  to  see  me,  I  have 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


come  to  you  to  be  congratulated,"  she  said. 
"  This  is  my  birthday,  Mrs.  Severance." 
Marie  rose  slowly  to  her  feet. 

"  Mrs.  Atwood,  why  have  you  come  here  ? 
Do  you  want  me  to  say  that  I  am  glad  you 
were  born,  when  I  was  lying  here  cursing 
that  day  ?  " 

Aline  started  back  dismayed,  her  face 
changing  as  if  the  smile  had  been  struck 
from  her  lips. 

"  Mrs.  Severance!"  she  cried  incredu- 
lously. 

Marie  went  on  :  — 

"  Am  I  the  only  one  who  has  reason  to 
do  that  ?  Let  me  ask  you  a  few  questions. 
What  your  history  has  been  I  know. 
Where  is  the  lover  you  threw  aside  ?  What 
kind  of  wife  are  you  to  the  man  you  have 
tricked  into  marrying  you  ?  Was  not  that 
enough,  without  wrecking  my  happiness 
also  ? " 

Aline  shrank  yet  more.  "  Are  you  speak- 
ing of  me  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Yes  ;  of  you  who  are  teaching  my  hus- 
band to  love  you.  Do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Do  I  love  your  husband  !  " 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Marie  laughed  contemptuously,  "Why 
do  I  ask  ?  Love  !  It  would  be  better  if  you 
did.  You  have  not  blood  enough  to  care. 
You  are  a  vampire,  feeding  on  the  blood  of 
others.  You  give  nothing,  and  accept  all. 
Those  very  roses  on  your  bosom  that  you 
flaunt  in  my  face,  my  husband  sent  to  you. 
See,  you  dare  to  blush  over  them  !  You 
cannot  deny  it." 

Aline  drew  herself  up  superbly,  her  eyes 
flashing. 

"  At  last  I  understand  you !  I  should 
have  understood  earlier.  I  do  not  attempt 
to  deny  anything.  Believe  what  you  like, 
whatever  your  imagination  prompts.  As  for 
your  husband  —  let  him  speak  for  himself." 

She  turned  to  the  doorway,  where  Seve- 
rance stood  looking  from  one  woman  to  the 
other.  Aline  swept  nearer  to  him. 

"Mr.  Severance,  I  do  not  know  how 
much  you  have  heard.  Your  wife  has  done 
me  the  honour  to  be  —  jealous  of  me,  and 
tell  me  so.  Be  good  enough  to  let  me  pass." 

Malcolm  Severance  drew  back  from  the 
door,  holding  it  open,  and  allowing  Aline 
to  pass  out.  She  waved  him  back  imperi- 
132 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


ously  as  he  would  have  followed  her  down 
the  stairs.  Malcolm  returned  to  his  room, 
shutting  the  door  gently  after  him. 

"Marie,"  he  said,  his  voice  was  unusu- 
ally quiet,  "  do  I  understand  that  you  have 
ventured  to  insult  Mrs.  Atwood  here?" 
Marie's  passionate,  lifted  face  defied  him. 

"  I  have  told  her  what  I  thought  of  her. 
I  now  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you.  Mal- 
colm, to  undersell  your  picture  to  humiliate 
me  and  flatter  her  vanity,  was  "  — 

"  Take  care,  Marie.  Once  before  I 
warned  you ;  again  you  are  going  too  far." 

"  I  will  finish.  It  was  despicable.  When 
you  did  that,  you  went  too  far.  I  will  share 
allegiance  with  no  woman.  Follow  her  if 
you  will.  Here  is  the  key.  Smother  her 
in  flowers.  You  shall  choose  between  us." 

"  You  said  all  this  to  Mrs.  Atwood  ?  " 

"  More  than  that  I  said  to  her." 

"  Marie,  you  are  mad  !  " 

He  snatched  up  his  hat  as  he  spoke. 
Marie  stood  between  him  and  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  After  her,  of  course.  Let  me  go,  Marie  ; 
don't  touch  me.  You  have  ruined  us  all." 

133 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


He  brushed  her  hands  from  his  arm,  and 
was  gone,  leaving  her  staggering. 

And  Aline.  It  had  seemed  to  her  but 
one  rush  down  the  seven  flights  to  her 
home,  and  into  her  husband's  study. 

Mr.  Atwood  looked  up  from  the  book  he 
was  reading,  startled  at  her  entrance. 

"  Aline,  what  has  happened?  " 

She  paused  at  his  chair  for  a  moment  to 
reply  incoherently,  her  face  burning  :  — 

"  I  have  been  insulted  —  insulted  as  no 
woman  ever  was  before." 

Following  his  wife  as  she  paced  the  floor, 
he  put  his  arm  about  her,  checking  and 
steadying  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  You  warned  me  to  expect  impertinence, 
but  nothing  like  this." 

Mr.  Atwood's  brow  tightened,  his  face 
changed.  "  You  are  safe  now.  Has  Mc- 
Henry  "  - 

Aline  interrupted  him.  "  McHenry !  no. 
I  wish  he  had.  I  could  have  crushed  him. 
You  did  not  warn  me  that  women  would 
insult  me.  If  I  knew  a  stronger  word  I 
would  use  it.  She  accused  me  of  wrecking 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


her  happiness,  of — oh,  I  can't  soil  my  lips 
by  repeating  it !  " 

She  hid  her  face. 

"  Go  on,  my  child  ;  tell  me." 

"  Of  teaching  her  husband  to  love  me." 

"  Who  did  this,  Aline  ? " 

"  Mrs.  Severance." 

"  Marie !  Aline,  look  up  at  me  and 
speak." 

"  Mrs.  Severance  said  to  this  face  that  I 
taught  her  husband  to  love  me." 

"  Child,  are  you  raving  ?  " 

"  I  am  not.     She  was." 

"  Answer  my  questions  as  quickly  as  you 
can.  Did  Mrs.  Severance  make  any  more 
definite  charge  ? " 

"  None,  except  that  her  husband  sent  me 
these  flowers,  which  was  true,  and  that  I 
was  a  vampire." 

Mr.  Atwood  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"  Nothing  more  ?  " 

"  No ;  what  worse  could  she  have  said  ?  " 

"What  she  thinks,  probably.  A  jealous 
Frenchwoman,  with  her  mind  once  poi- 
soned, can  think  anything.  When  did  you 
last  see  her  ? " 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Not  for  weeks.  She  has  been  invited 
here  over  and  over,  but  would  never  come. 
She  has  always  disliked  me." 

"When  did  you  see  Severance  ?  " 

"  You  know.  Whenever  I  have  seen  him 
you  have." 

Mr.  Atwood  stood  considering. 

"As  I  think  of  it,  I  have  been  seeing 
him  perpetually.  He  has  been  lunching 
constantly  with  us,  too.  Don't  think  me 
blaming  you,  dear,  but  how  has  this  hap- 
pened?" 

"  By  your  invitation,  chiefly." 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  He  has  chanced  in, 
or  come  home  with  us  from  somewhere. 
Has  he  ever  been  formally  invited  without 
Mrs.  Severance?" 

"  Never." 

"You  are  quite  positive?" 

"Absolutely.   I  could  not  have  done  that." 

"  Think  well,  Aline."  He  laid  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder  as  he  went  on.  "  Remem- 
ber, I  wholly  trust  you  ;  but  have  you  shown 
Severance  any  attentions  whatever  that  ex- 
cluded his  wife  ? " 

Aline  flushed  slightly.  "  I  could  not  call 
136 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


it  that.  I  have  sent  him  invitations  to  what 
meant  aid  in  his  work,  that  is  all." 

"To  him  alone?" 

"  They  were  artistic  affairs  only." 

"And  many  of  those,  dear?" 

"All  I  could  get.  Why  not  ?  I  thought 
you  knew  it.  You  generally  got  me  the 
cards." 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  realized  it.  Dear, 
I  fear  I  begin  to  understand.  Severance 
is  utterly  careless,  and  we  have  been  so  a 
little.  Did  Mrs.  Severance  give  you  any 
reason  to  think  that  Severance  knew  of  her 
feeling  ?  If  so,  it  is  he,  not  she,  who  has 
offended  us." 

"  If  he  did  not  know  before,  he  knows 
now."  Mr.  Atwood  turned  quickly. 

"You  have  seen  him  since  ?  " 

"  He  came  in  on  the  disgraceful  scene, 
and  I  myself  explained  it  to  him." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"  He  tried  to  follow  me  from  the  house, 
but  I  ordered  him  back." 

"To  what,  after  following  you  from  his 
wife's  side !  Aline,  why  did  you  not  tell 
me  this  at  once  ?  You  don't  know  Marie 
'37 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Severance.  If  I  can  only  reach  there  in 
time  !  " 

He  left  his  wife,  to  hurry  out  into  the 
hall,  where,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
Aline  followed  him.  Mr.  Atwood  had  al- 
ready rung  the  bell  for  his  carriage,  and 
was  hunting  for  his  hat  and  coat.  Aline 
came  nearer  to  him. 

"  You  are  blaming  me,"  she  said.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  stood  before 
him  with  her  lips  quivering,  her  eyes  full  of 
tears,  and  he  did  not  stop  to  comfort  her. 
He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  look- 
ing into  her  face. 

"  Child,"  he  said,  "  will  you  never  wake  ? 
Don't  you  realize  what  may  be  at  stake  in 
another  home  ?  This  is  no  time  to  balance 
responsibilities.  Stay  here  until  I  come 
back.  I  may  need  you." 

Aline  moved  instantly  away.  She  re- 
turned to  the  study,  to  sit  there  listening, 
with  no  more  tears  in  her  eyes,  no  quiver 
of  her  lips.  She  heard  the  hall  door  shut 
and  the  carriage  wheels  roll  off,  but  even 
then,  when  there  were  footsteps  in  the  hall 
outside,  she  believed  that  her  husband  was 
138 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


returning  to  her,  until  a  servant  entered, 
bringing  her  a  card.  Aline  took  it  and 
read  the  name.  As  she  did  so  her  face 
flushed  hotly. 

"Show  Mr.  Severance  into  this  room," 
she  said. 

When  Severance  entered,  Aline  rose  to 
receive  him.  He  paused  a  moment  at  the 
door  to  watch  her  standing  erect  and  with 
lifted  head,  waiting  for  him,  not  coming  a 
step  forward  or  raising  her  hand. 

"  An  unsheathed  sword  !  "  Malcolm  said 
to  himself. 

He  approached  her  with  deference  in 
voice  and  manner. 

"Mrs.  Atwood,  it  is  very  good  of  you  to 
see  me  at  all.  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  be  on 
my  knees  before  you." 

"  No,"  Aline  answered  resentfully ;  "  your 
proper  place,  Mr.  Severance,  is  on  your 
face,  unless  you  can  tell  me  that  your  wife's 
attitude  toward  me  was  as  overwhelming  a 
shock  to  you  to-day  as  to  myself.  I  saw 
you  to  ask  you  this  one  question." 

Severance  paused ;  it  could  not  have 
been  called  hesitation. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Suppose,"  he  said  quietly,  "  that  I 
should  refuse  to  answer  ?  " 

Aline  breathed  hard. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "You  have 
been  as  direct  as  you  have  been  delicate  in 
replying.  Mr.  Severance,  how  did  you  dare 
to  let  this  happen  ?  How  did  you  presume 
to  allow  such  a  suspicion  of  me  to  dwell  in 
the  mind  of  any  one  for  a  moment,  you 
knowing  it  ?  The  bare  thought  is  an  insult 
to  me." 

He  answered  gently,  "  Mrs.  Atwood,  I 
think  I  can  prove  to  you  that  nothing  of  the 
kind  has  been  intended." 

"With  this  everything  becomes  inten- 
tional. I  accepted  some  roses  from  you 
to-day.  Now  that  I  know  your  wife  has 
thought  of  them  as  expressing  sentiment, 
they  are  hateful  to  me.  I  loathe  the  very 
sight  of  them." 

She  unpinned  the  roses  from  her  bosom 
and  flung  them  into  the  open  grate.  On 
the  table  near  by  stood  a  vase  overflowing 
with  the  same  flowers.  Aline  glanced  at 
them,  and  Severance,  walking  deliberately 
to  the  vase,  caught  the  roses  from  the 
140 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


water.  He  carried  them  to  the  fireplace, 
thrusting  them  also  into  the  grate,  until 
the  chimney-place  was  a  burning  arbour. 
While  the  flames  devoured  the  sacrifice, 
and  rose-leaves,  with  ashes  of  roses,  strewed 
the  hearth,  Aline  spoke  again,  more  com- 
posedly, yet  with  deeper  emotion. 

"When  I  think  that  you  have  been  the 
means  of  soiling  by  the  faintest  breath  my 
name  and  my  honour,  I  have  no  forgiveness 
for  you.  You  have  made  me  hear  to-day 
what  scorched  my  ears  as  that  fire  might." 

"  I  cannot  too  deeply  regret  it,  or  too 
repentantly  tell  you  so.  But,  Mrs.  Atwood, 
pray  believe  me,  the  one  who  so  offended 
you  was  thinking  very  little  one  way  or  the 
other  of  a  question  of  honour.  She  was 
thinking  only  of  her  husband." 

"  But  it  is  of  my  honour  only  that  I  am 
thinking.  What  do  I  care  for  her  or  her 
husband  ?  " 

Severance  looked  up  quickly  from  the  fire 
into  Aline's  face.  A  kind  of  amazement 
overspread  his  features.  Then  he  laughed. 

"  Mrs.  Atwood,  forgive  me.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  forgot  myself  unpardonably.  You 
141 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


are  a  lesson  to  us  in  that  direction.  Upon 
my  honour,  you  are,  with  no  exception, 
the  most  consistent  being  I  ever  met.  I 
beg  that  you  will  not  think  that  I  came 
here  to  excuse  my  wife  to  you.  I  have 
only  just  begun  to  see  how  excusable  she 
was." 

"  Do  you  mean  me  to  understand  that 
you  came  here  to  defend  her  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  her  name  does  not  belong 
in  any  discussion  between  us." 

"To  this  extent  it  does.  I  have  the 
right,  and  I  do  demand  that  you  say  to 
your  wife  "  — 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Atwood,  you  are  not 
quite  ignorant  of  married  life  ;  you  must 
know  that  between  man  and  wife  no  mortal 
being  can  dictate  a  whisper.  If  you  care 
to  know  what  I  mean  to  say  to  her,  I  will 
tell  you  that  I  am  now  going  to  ask  pardon 
of  her  on  my  knees.  But  first  let  me  say 
this  to  you  for  myself.  Never,  in  my  re- 
motest thoughts,  have  I  held  you  as  any- 
thing but  perfectly  kind,  perfectly  cold, 
perfectly  unapproachable.  I  should  no 
more  have  dreamed  of  drawing  nearer  to 
142 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


you  than  would  any  other  frail  craft  towards 
an  iceberg." 

Aline  bowed  her  head  proudly. 

"This,  Mr.  Severance,  is  just  what  I 
wished  you  to  say  to  your  wife  when  you 
stopped  my  speaking." 

"  Did  you  wish  me  to  say  it  for  her  sake, 
or  for  yours  ?  You  need  not  answer  me, 
Mrs.  Atwood.  I  thought  I  knew  you.  You 
had  depths  my  plumb-line  did  not  reach, 
and  so  you  have  been  good  enough  to  show 
them  to  me.  This,  I  suppose,  is  farewell  ? " 

Malcolm  walked  out  of  the  Atwood  house 
toward  his  own  home.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  as  he  turned  his  back. 

"So  much,"  he  said  to  himself,  "for 
swimming  with  brass  pots.  Yet  I  am  not 
sure  as  to  which  of  us  broke  the  other.  Now 
for  Marie  !  " 

In  his  heart  he  a  little  dreaded  that  meet- 
ing ;  but  as  he  went  on  a  strange  desire  grew 
within  him  to  see  her.  The  squares  had 
never  seemed  so  long  nor  the  seven  flights 
so  high.  When  he  opened  his  door  it  was 
with  a  comforting  realisation  that  it  led  into 
his  home. 

'43 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Marie  !  "  he  called  gently  as  he  entered, 
but  there  was  no  answer,  and,  though  he 
could  not  tell  why,  the  room  seemed  to  him 
in  confusion.  Marie  was  almost  too  neat, 
as  he  often  told  her.  He  went  back  into 
the  bedroom  and  to  the  little  kitchen,  to  find 
only  the  same  confusion,  the  same  conspic- 
uous absence.  Marie  was  gone. 

"  To  buy  supper  ;  "  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Yes,  for  supper,"  but  he  did  not  believe 
it.  He  was  wandering  through  the  rooms, 
and,  though  he  did  not  confess  it,  was  every- 
where looking  for  something  which  he  found 
on  his  easel,  —  a  letter  from  Marie,  ad- 
dressed to  himself.  For  a  moment  he  could 
not  open  it,  then  was  not  able  to  break  the 
seal  as  fast  as  he  would.  Something  hard 
fell  into  his  hand.  It  was  the  wretched 
key.  Malcolm  flung  it  from  him.  He 
dragged  out  of  the  envelope  a  bit  of  writ- 
ing, only  two  lines  ;  — 

"  You  have  chosen,  and  left  me  no  choice  but 
this.  O  dearest,  did  I  not  love"  —  The 
rest  was  a  blur. 

To  Malcolm  Severance  it  seemed  that 
the  heart  in  his  body  ceased  to  beat ;  his 
144 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


head  swam,  his  knees  were  water  as  he  read. 
He  knew  his  wife,  and,  not  as  a  woman  of 
idle  threats.  In  that  moment  the  past  re- 
proached and  the  future  darkened,  until  the 
room  circled  about  him,  and  he  fell  on  the 
divan  where  Marie  had  lain  taking  her 
hour  of  agony  alone,  the  paper  crushed  in 
his  hand. 

The  words  upon  the  paper  had  been  writ- 
ten by  Marie's  fingers  not  five  minutes  after 
Malcolm  brushed  them  from  his  arm.  When 
he  left  her  staggering  from  his  rude  repulse, 
her  resolution  was  taken  while  his  footsteps 
were  yet  on  the  stair.  She  had  to  cling  to 
the  table  for  support  with  one  hand,  but 
with  the  other  she  was  fitting  the  key  into 
the  lock  of  the  drawer.  Her  small  purse, 
containing  only  what  was  justly  hers,  lay 
there.  Beside  it  lay  the  leather  bag  of 
money,  and  in  another  corner  a  box  of  dried 
orange  blossoms,  still  fragrant,  a  pair  of 
white  gloves,  a  white  favour,  and  —  Marie 
caught  up  the  little  purse  quickly,  shutting 
and  locking  the  drawer.  She  sat  down  by 
the  table  to  enclose  the  key  in  an  envelope, 
which  she  addressed  to  her  husband.  Then 

MS 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


for  a  moment  she  hesitated,  her  pen  poised 
over  the  paper  she  drew  toward  her.  The 
first  line  was  written  deliberately,  each  word 
weighed  ;  the  next  was  begun  before  she 
knew,  and  when  the  knowledge  came  she 
flung  the  pen  aside,  yet  would  not  begin 
again.  Blotting  the  words  as  they  were, 
she  enclosed  them  with  the  key.  This  done, 
she  walked  steadily  through  the  room,  pick- 
ing up  here  and  there  some  little  personal 
possessions,  which  she  carried  to  her  bed- 
room. When  she  returned  once  more  to 
the  studio,  she  was  dressed  for  the  street 
and  had  with  her  a  satchel.  As  she  crossed 
the  floor  of  the  studio,  Marie  did  not  lift 
her  eyes.  They  should  take  no  last  look. 
She  would  gladly  have  given  her  hearing 
to  miss  the  sound  of  the  closing  door.  It 
seemed  to  shut  on  her  heart.  There  was 
no  reason  in  the  world  why  she,  Marie  Sev- 
erance, should  not  walk  down  the  stairs  with 
a  satchel  in  her  hand,  yet  she  crept  softly, 
like  a  criminal.  She  had  come  down  six 
flights,  meeting  no  one.  There  was  but  one 
more  to  descend ;  at  that  last  landing  she 
looked  up  to  see  Mr.  Atwood  standing  at 
146 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


the  head  of  the  stair,  one  hand  on  the  rail- 
ing, the  other  against  the  wall.  His  swift 
glance  swept  her  from  head  to  foot,  noting 
each  detail,  then  fastened  gravely  upon  her 
face. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mrs.  Severance  ? " 
he  asked. 

Marie  recovered  herself,  and  tried  to  re- 
ply lightly,  attempting  too  late  to  hold  her 
gown  between  him  and  the  satchel. 

"  Not  to  confession  to-day,  Mr.  Atwood." 

His  face  grew  more  serious.  "  To-mor- 
row, then  ?  Why  not  tell  me  now  what  all 
your  world  will  know  by  that  time  ?  Mrs. 
Severance,  I  know  you  are  taking  a  grave 
step,  and  you  are  taking  it  on  a  supposition 
absolutely  mistaken." 

Marie  dropped  her  gown.  "  Mr.  Atwood, 
let  me  pass,"  she  said,  facing  him. 

"One  moment  only,  Mrs.  Severance. 
Will  you  believe  my  solemn  assurance  "  — 

"  No ;  who  has  solemnly  assured  you  ? 
She  denied  nothing  to  me.  Let  me  pass ; 
you  have  no  right  to  detain  me." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  do  so  ;  but  where  are 
you  going  ? " 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Away  from  here." 

"  You  have  already  made  your  arrange- 
ments ?  " 

"  I  can  when  you  let  me  pass." 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  are  going  ?  " 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care." 

"Then  let  me  do  both.  You  do  not 
realise  how  late  and  how  dark  it  is.  You 
will  not  find  respectable  houses  ready  to 
take  in  a  woman  who  comes  as  unpro- 
tectedly  as  you  intend  to  apply.  My  car- 
riage is  at  the  door.  I  will  drive  to  a  place 
I  know  of,  and  establish  you  there.  By  the 
morning  you  will  have  had  time  to  think 
and  make  your  plans.  I  tell  you  frankly, 
on  any  other  condition  I  dare  not  let  you 
out  of  my  sight." 

He  saw  her  hesitate,  and  pressed  her. 

"You  can  surely  trust  me,  your  oldest 
friend  here,  so  far." 

She  looked  at  him  pitifully. 

"  Oh,  yes,  for  yourself ;  but  can  I  trust 
you  not  to  tell  my  —  my  husband  where  I 
am  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  tell  him." 

"  Not  even  that  you  met  me  ? " 
148 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Not  even  that  I  met  you." 

"Then  I  will  go  with  you.  Only  take 
me  now.  He  may  come  at  any  moment." 

Once  in  the  carriage,  Mr.  Atwood  did 
not  speak  to  her  ;  they  drove  on  in  silence. 
He  had  given  instructions  to  the  coach- 
man before  they  set  out,  and  the  carriage 
stopped  at  last  in  the  middle  of  a  block  of 
houses.  Mr.  Atwood  stepped  out  quickly, 
pausing  a  moment  at  the  curb  to  speak  to 
Marie. 

"  I  had  better  make  the  arrangements  for 
you,"  he  said ;  "  it  may  take  a  little  time- 
Will  you  wait  for  me  here  ? " 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

He  closed  the  door,  hurrying  away,  but 
not  to  any  of  the  houses  in  the  block. 
Turning  back  of  the  carriage,  he  walked 
rapidly  to  the  street  corner,  down  another 
avenue,  and  with  the  same  quick  pace  to 
the  square  where  his  own  house  stood. 

Aline  was  sitting  in  her  room  alone  when 
he  entered,  seeking  her.  She  neither  rose 
nor  turned  at  his  step.  Mr.  Atwood  came 
behind  her  chair.  Resting  his  hand  on  its 
back,  he  bent  over  his  wife. 
149 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Aline,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  want  you  to 
prepare  yourself  for  something  very  diffi- 
cult, but  equally  imperative,  which  I  have 
for  you  to  do.  My  child,  I  found  matters 
worse  than  I  had  feared  at  the  Severances' 
home.  I  have  come  for  you  as  the  only  be- 
ing who  can  set  them  straight.  I  want  you 
to  go  to  Mrs.  Severance  with  me  at  once." 

Aline  turned  to  him,  her  hands  grasping 
the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"  You  want  me  to  go  to  Mrs.  Severance ! 
I  never  shall  speak  to  either  of  them  again ! 
Her  husband  has  been  here  since  you 
left." 

"  Severance  !     What  was  he  here  for  ? " 

"  To  call  me  an  iceberg,  apparently. 
Vampire  and  iceberg !  I  don't  think  I  feel 
called  upon  to  trouble  myself  with  the  Sev- 
erance family." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  see  Mrs. 
Severance,  Aline.  She  tells  me  you  denied 
nothing  to  her  to-day." 

"  I  did  not ;  why  should  I  condescend  to 
denial  ?  I  had  nothing  to  deny.  Are  you 
too  coming  to  accuse  me  ? "  her  voice 
faltered. 

150 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mr.  Atwood  walked  over  to  the  writing- 
table,  and  opened  Aline's  stamp-box. 

"  Is  this  here  still  ? "  he  said.  "  Yes,  it  is.'" 
He  took  from  its  white  cotton  nest  the 
little  withered  seed.  Aline,  watching  him, 
flushed  and  bit  her  lip. 

"You  cannot  think  I  kept  that  for  the 
sake  of  Mr.  Severance  !  "  she  cried. 

"  No,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  don't  know  just 
why  you  kept  it,  but  I  do  know  that  your 
actual  wrong-doing  in  this  matter  is  only 
about  as  large  as  this  foolish  little  thing, 
and  that  your  feeling  for  Severance  himself 
never  amounted  to  that  size." 

He  flicked  the  seed  away  as  he  spoke. 
"  You  found  him  peculiarly  acceptable  to 
you  for  one  reason  or  another,  and  so 
have  reached  out  your  hand  and  taken  him, 
thoughtless  of  anything  but  your  own  pleas- 
ure. I  have  allowed  it  because  —  well,  be- 
cause I  have  always  been  blind  with  you  in 
question.  The  fruit  has  been  inadequately 
large.  I  realise  all  that,  but  the  seed  is  of 
your  sowing.  We  have  done  wrong,  and  we 
must  undo  it.  Aline,  you  will  be  shocked 
to  learn  what  I  have  to  tell  you.  I  found 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Mrs.  Severance  on  her  way  from  her  hus- 
band's home.  I  have  induced  her  to  trust 
herself  to  me.  She  is  in  my  carriage  now, 
waiting  out  in  the  street.  She  thinks  I  am 
looking  for  a  refuge  for  her.  I  am  looking 
for  you  as  the  one  being  who  can  induce 
her  to  return  to  her  home." 

Aline  with  difficulty  controlled  her  voice. 
Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  And  you,  my  own  husband,  take  part 
against  me ;  you  ask  me  to  abase  myself  to 
a  woman  who  has  said  to  me  what  she  has 
said  —  who  has  been  the  cause  of  your 
speaking  to  me  as  I  did  not  know  you 
could  speak,"  she  ended  brokenly. 

"  My  wife,  I  am  not  taking  part  against 
you.  If  I  could  do  this  for  you,  you  know 
I  would,  but  you  alone  can  act  here,  and  it 
must  be  quickly  done.  My  plan  is  to  put 
you  in  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  Severance. 
I  will  sit  on  the  box  myself.  I  cannot  tell 
you  what  to  say  to  her.  You  will  know  how 
to  act.  I  will  drive  slowly  toward  the  Sever- 
ances' house,  and  when  you  wish  me  to  stop 
there,  ring  the  bell.  My  child,  I  know  this 
is  hard  for  you,  but  it  cannot  be  avoided." 
152 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline  drew  herself  back  in  her  chair. 
Her  voice  was  hard  and  steady. 

"  You  need  not  be  sorry  for  me ;  I  am 
not  going." 

"  Then  you  do  not  yet  realise  what  it 
means  if  Severance  comes  home  to  find  his 
wife  gone.  She  must  be  there  when  he  re- 
turns." 

"  Some  one  else  can  take  her.  I  shall 
not.  She  has  brought  all  this  on  herself. 
I  have  done  nothing,  absolutely  nothing, 
that  I  regret  or  will  condescend  to  explain." 

As  Mr.  Atwood  looked  down  into  his 
wife's  flushed  face,  his  own  grew  deeply 
troubled.  He  glanced  up  at  the  clock. 

"  Aline,  what  can  I  say  to  you  ?  There 
is  so  little  time."  He  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  then  spoke  quickly.  "  Look  at 
this  from  all  sides.  If  it  once  becomes  an 
open  scandal,  you  will  be  pointed  out,  how- 
ever unjustly,  as  the  woman  who  broke  up 
that  home." 

Aline  started  to  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  this  humiliates  me*  beyond  any 
bearing.  I,  who  have  never  stepped  an 
inch  aside,  to  have  this  come  to  me  !  " 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


She  sank  back  in  her  chair  again,  hiding 
her  face.  Suddenly  her  hands  fell.  She 
lifted  her  head. 

"  Why  should  I  feel  it  so  ?  I  have  done 
nothing.  No,  and  I  will  do  nothing  now. 
Let  her  go,  if  she  will,  and  where  she  will. 
As  for  me,  they  can  say  what  they  like  ;  my 
name  will  sustain  it." 

"  Aline,  consider  a  moment.  Think  what 
you  say.  You  do  not  mean  that." 

"  I  have  thought." 

"  You  mean  me  to  understand  that  as 
you  are  safe,  you  will  not  lift  your  finger  to 
save  the  woman  you  have  wronged,  how- 
ever unthinkingly  ?  " 

"  I  do  mean  that." 

She  did  not  know  the  deliberate  voice  in 
which  he  answered  her. 

"  You  are  perfectly  right  in  saying  that 
no  one  could  accuse  you  of  imprudence. 
I  used  a  subterfuge  to  touch  your  selfish 
fears.  I  am  ashamed  that  I  have  resorted 
to  such  an  appeal,  even  in  extremity.  Once 
you  wondered  why  I  was  not  too  glad  to  be 
so  sure  of  your  coldness.  Now  perhaps 
you  can  see.  Your  pet  sin  allows  no  room 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


for  other  sins.  Like  Aaron's  serpent,  it  de- 
stroys all  the  rest.  I  do  not  ask  you  now 
to  come  with  me  for  your  sake ;  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  you  will  not  suffer  to 
any  extent.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  come  for 
the  sake  of  that  poor  woman  waiting  out 
there  in  the  street.  I  command  you  to 
come  with  me  simply  because  I  desire  it. 
If  you  have  not  a  woman's  heart  in  your 
body,  you  have  a  woman's  wit  in  your  brain. 
Use  it.  Mrs.  Severance  is  to  be  taken 
back  to  her  home  by  you,  if  we  have  to 
drive  about  this  city  all  night  to  accomplish 
it.  Understand  that  this  is  absolute.  Get 
your  hood  and  cloak.  There  is  no  time  to 
lose." 

Aline  sat  motionless,  her  breath  sus- 
pended, her  eyes  wide,  and  fixed  on  her 
husband's  face.  His  eyes  softened  as  he 
looked  at  her. 

"  Aline,"  he  cried,  holding  out  his  hands, 
"  can  your  body  only  be  so  lovely  ?  Come 
with  me,  dear,  of  yourself." 

Her  lip  trembled  with  a  sob,  but  she  did 
not  move.  Mr.  Atwood's  hands  fell.  He 
turned  away,  walking  to  a  door  at  the  end 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


of  the  room,  which   he   opened.      Aline's 
maid  sat  outside  sewing. 

"  Mrs.  Atwood's  cloak  and  hood,"  Mr. 
Atwood  said  to  her  shortly.  He  glanced 
back  at  Aline,  then  spoke  in  his  usual 
tones. 

"  You  have  slippers  on.  You  will  have 
some  distance  to  walk.  Bring  me  the 
carriage  shoes  also.  I  will  take  them 
myself." 

He  took  the  wrappings  the  maid  handed 
in  to  him,  and  closed  the  door.  Aline  sat 
like  a  statue.  Her  husband  knelt  before 
her,  and  drew  on  her  shoes. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  standing  to  hold  the 
cloak  for  her. 

Aline  lifted  her  eyes  with  one  quick 
glance  into  his  face. 

"Come,  Aline,"  he  repeated,  and  she 
rose,  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  Mr. 
Atwood  wrapped  the  cloak  about  her.  As 
he  did  so,  for  one  moment  he  held  her  in 
his  arms. 

"  Child,"  he  said,   "  why  will  you  make 
me  so  harsh  to  you  ?     Must  you  be  broken 
in  pieces  to  find  your  heart  ? ': 
156 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


He  led  her  to  the  door.  Aline  followed 
him  down  the  stairs,  still  speechless.  Once 
she  paused,  as  if  to  regain  her  breath,  but, 
as  he  turned  back  toward  her,  she  went  on 
again,  following  him  silently  as  before. 
They  went  out  into  the  street,  and  to  the 
square,  where  the  carriage  waited.  Just 
before  they  reached  its  door  Mr.  Atwood 
paused  to  look  down  into  his  wife's  face  by 
the  light  from  a  street  lamp  standing  above 
them.  As  they  left  the  house  he  had  drawn 
her  passive  hand  through  his  arm,  now  he 
laid  his  hand  gently  over  hers. 

"  Remember,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  be  close 
by  you  in  thought.  Does  your  courage 
fail,  Aline  ? " 

Her  voice  was  as  wretched  as  her  face. 

"  It  was  not  lack  of  courage  that  kept 
me  away.  You  know  it  is  my  fear  only 
that  brings  me  here." 

"  Of  what  are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  Of  you.  You  cannot  realise  what  things 
you  have  said  to  me  if  you  ask  that." 

Her  voice  broke.  Mr.  Atwood  bent 
toward  her  quickly,  then  drew  back. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  quietly,  "  I  do  real- 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


ise  all  that  I  said.  I  meant  it  all  then  and 
now." 

Aline  drew  a  shivering  breath. 

"  What  can  help  me  then !  Why  was  there 
not  some  one  to  save  me  ?  You  seemed  to 
care  for  me.  Why  did  you  let  me  marry 
you  ?  " 

Mr.  Atwood  laid  his  other  hand  on  his 
wife's  shoulder,  turning  her  face  to  him. 

"  You  regret  your  marriage  with  me, 
Aline  ?  " 

She  looked  up  desperately  without  reply. 

"  Answer  me  truly,"  he  said  solemnly. 
"  It  is  too  late  to  go  back  now." 

"  I  regret  it  bitterly  —  bitterly  !  "  she 
broke  out,  "  if  you  will  know.  Now,  what 
can  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  can  thank  God,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"  Aline,  we  must  speak  of  this  later.  There 
are  others  to  think  of  now.  Let  us  do  what 
we  can  for  them  first,  and  afterward  what 
we  can  for  ourselves." 

He  moved  to  the  carriage  door,  and 
opened  it.  As  Mrs.  Severance  bent  for- 
ward with  an  anxious  question  on  her  lips, 
he  replied  only  by  lifting  Aline  to  the  seat 
158 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


beside  her,  and  closing  the  door  on  the 
two  women.  The  next  moment  the  carriage 
was  in  motion.  Marie  sat  upright  in  her 
place,  too  amazed  to  speak ;  but,  as  the  first 
flash  of  light  from  the  street  showed  her  the 
face  of  her  companion,  making  one  spring 
for  the  carriage  door,  she  would  have  flung 
herself  into  the  street,  had  not  Aline  caught 
her  strongly  by  both  wrists. 

"  Mrs.  Severance,"  she  said  coldly,  "  you 
will  kill  yourself.  My  husband  tells  me 
that  you  have  left  your  home  through  my 
fault,  and  he  wishes  me  to  explain  to  you 
what  I  refused  to  enter  into  this  afternoon. 
Your  husband  has  never  seen  me  except  in 
my  husband's  presence  or  that  of  others. 
There  has  not  been  a  thought  harboured,  or 
a  word  spoken  that  you  could  have  objected 
to.  I  feel  that  these  details  are  as  unne- 
cessary as  they  are  humiliating.  Do  you 
wish  further  vindication  of  my  honour,  or 
does  this  satisfy  you  ?  " 

Marie  turned  on  her  furiously. 

"  Why  should  this  satisfy  me  ?  Why 
should  I  believe  you  ?  Would  you  accept 
the  testimony  of  one  of  those  poor  souls  out 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


there  in  the  street  whom  we  scarcely  name 
sisters  ?  To  me  such  women  as  you  are 
worse  than  they.  What  honour  you  possessed 
you  sold  with  your  disgraceful  marriage." 

Aline's  grasp  on  Marie's  arm  loosened  ; 
she  drew  back. 

"  This  is  the  second  time  to-day,  Mrs. 
Severance,  that  you  have  alluded  to  my 
marriage  in  this  manner.  I  am  obliged 
to  speak  to  you  of  your  affairs,  but  not  to 
submit  to  this." 

"  So  there  is  something  that  touches  you  ! 
I  know  nothing  about  your  marriage  except 
what  all  the  world  knows,  —  that  you  sold 
yourself  for  a  stated  sum,  like  any  other 
bought  girl.  I  would  rather  be  some  poor 
homeless  soul  throwing  herself  away  for 
love  than  do  what  you  have  done.  If  you 
had  known  what  a  home  was,  you  would 
have  held  mine  sacred,  you  would  have  re- 
spected my  marriage,  where  the  smallest 
wedge  of  division  is  like  the  agony  of  tear- 
ing flesh  from  flesh.  What  do  you  know  of 
wifehood,  of  a  husband  "  — 

Aline  was  drawing  deep  breaths.     She 
broke  in  passionately :  — 
1 60 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Stop,  Mrs.  Severance  !  I  will  not  permit 
discussion  of  my  marriage  and  my  husband 
any  more  than  your  husband  permitted  my 
speaking  of  his  marriage  and  his  wife." 

Marie  started. 

"  Malcolm  did  that  ?  But  it  was  you  he 
followed.,' 

Aline  hesitated.  "  Mrs.  Severance,"  she 
said,  "  understand  that  in  speaking  further 
to  you  I  am  but  my  husband's  mouthpiece. 
Your  husband  followed  me  apparently  to 
say  that  his  opinion  of  me  was  but  little 
less  contemptible  than  your  own.  Perhaps 
this  will  satisfy  you.  He  left  me  to  seek 
you  and  ask  your  pardon." 

"  To  ask  my  pardon  !  No,  this  is  but 
another  trick.  Even  Mr.  Atwood  has  de- 
ceived me  to-night.  I  can  trust  no  one." 

"He  went  to  ask  your  pardon  on  his 
knees,  he  said.  I  can  only  tell  you  these 
things,  Mrs.  Severance.  I  cannot  make 
you  believe  me.  My  husband  was  very 
anxious  that  Mr.  Severance  should  not  find 
you  gone  when  he  reached  home.  If  you 
consent  to  return  at  once,  we  may  reach 
there  before  him." 

161 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Marie  wrung  her  hands. 

"  He  has  gone  to  ask  my  pardon,  and  will 
only  find  my  letter !  What  will  he  do  ? 
Mrs.  Atwood,  let  me  get  out.  Let  me  go 
to  him.  How  could  I  dare  to  leave  my 
home  ?  " 

Aline  leaned  forward  and  touched  the 
carriage  bell. 

"  He  may  not  be  there  yet,"  she  said  with 
cold  reassurance.  "  We  may  reach  the 
house  before  him,  as  we  are  driving.  We 
shall  be  moving  rapidly  now ;  for  that  bell 
was  the  signal  to  take  you  home." 

Marie  heard  the  words,  not  the  tone. 
She  grasped  Aline's  hands  gratefully  in 
hers. 

"  How  kind  you  are  to  me  !  I  have  been 
unjust  to  you.  Perhaps  I  have  misunder- 
stood everything.  I  have  been  crazy,  I 
think.  Have  I  said  terrible  things  to  you  ? 
I  can't  remember  what  I  have  said." 

Aline  drew  her  hands  away. 

"  It   is    not    necessary  that   both   of   us 
should   remember,  Mrs.    Severance.     This 
is  your  house,  I  think.     Yes,  here  is   my 
husband  at  the  carriage  door." 
162 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Marie  almost  fell  from  the  carriage  into 
Mr.  Atwood's  arms."  She  clung  to  him 
appealingly. 

"  Has  he  come  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  child,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Do  you  take  her  up  the  stairs, 
Aline." 

The  two  women  wound  up  the  stairs 
together,  Marie  pausing  continually  and 
clinging  to  the  railing  as  she  listened  for 
any  sound.  When  she  reached  her  door 
she  stretched  out  her  hand  towards  the 
lock,  then  drew  back. 

"  I  cannot ! "  she  whispered  piteously. 

Aline  laid  her  hand  firmly  on  the  lock, 
and  opened  the  door.  Marie  gave  one 
glance  into  the  room  and  at  the  divan  where 
Malcolm  lay.  Her  letter  had  just  fallen 
from  his  hand  to  the  floor  ;  he  was  feeling 
for  it  without  raising  his  head. 

Marie  darted  across  the  room,  sweeping 
the  paper  away  as  she  dropped  on  her 
knees  at  his  side. 

"  Malcolm  !  "  she  cried. 

From  the  threshold  of  the  room  Aline 
saw  him  lift  his  face.  She  saw  its  white 
163 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


wretchedness  break  into  a  flushed  ecstasy 
as  he  opened  his  arms';  and  turning  away, 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her.  At  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  Mr.  Atwood  was  waiting 
for  her. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

His  wife  answered  him  gravely  :  — 

"  I  left  them  together." 

"  Really  together,  Aline  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  may  be  satisfied." 

He  glanced  at  her  and  said  no  more,  even 
when  they  sat  alone  in  the  carriage.  Aline 
leaned  back  in  its  depths.  He  felt  rather 
than  saw  that  her  face  was  buried  in  her 
hands.  It  was  she  who  led  the  way  to  his 
study  when  they  returned  to  their  home, 
and  when  Mr.  Atwood  followed  her,  she 
was  standing  by  the  fireplace  where  the 
roses  had  been  destroyed  looking  down  at 
the  bits  of  charred  stalks  and  rose-leaves 
that  still  strewed  the  hearth.  Mr.  Atwood 
braced  himself  to  approach  her. 

"Aline,"  he  said  gently,  "  of  what  are  you 
thinking  ? " 

She  looked  up  to  reply  slowly  :  — 

"  I  was  thinking  that  twenty-two  is  very 
164 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


young  to  die.  The  epitaph  would  say,  '  Cut 
down  in  the  flower  of  her  youth.'  I  had 
rather  have  that  written  over  me  than  stand 
as  I  do  now,  a  bare  stalk,  bud  and  flowers 
gone  at  twenty-two."  She  went  on  bitterly, 
"  What  have  I  to  look  forward  to  ?  Mrs. 
Severance  called  me  worse  than  homeless. 
She  was  right.  I  am  worse  than  that. 
Were  I  really  without  a  roof  over  my  head, 
some  one  might  take  me  in,  and,  in  pity, 
care  for  me.  As  it  is,  I  must  live  on  here 
with  no  one  in  the  world  caring  for  me.  I 
cannot  even  remember  my  father  or  mother. 
You  were  the  only  being  who  was  anything 
on  earth  to  me,  until  you  became  my  hus- 
band, who  does  not  love  me." 

Mr.  Atwood  replied  gravely,  "  You  did 
not  finish.  You  must  add,  'and  whom  I 
do  not  love.' " 

"  I  did  love  you." 

"  As  your  guardian,  yes ;  as  your  hus- 
band, no.  My  position  toward  you  has 
grown  more  nebulous  daily  since  our  mar- 
riage." 

"  Why  did  you  ever  change  it  ?     We  were 
happy  together  as  ward  and  guardian." 
165 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"Why  did  I  change  it?  Look  back  a 
moment  and  see.  Did  you  find  McHenvy 
delicate  when  he  saw  you  the  wife  of  a  man 
he  knew  you  did  not  love  ?  As  his  wife, 
when  he  found  you  did  not  love  him,  but 
what  was  his,  —  and  he  would  have  dis- 
covered it,  —  how  would  you  have  fared 
in  his  hands  ?  " 

Aline  turned  away.  "  Yes,  I  remember. 
You  married  me  to  save  me  from  him.  I 
alone  am  to  blame  that  my  life  is  over  at 
twenty-two.  It  is  suicide,  not  murder ;  but 
that  does  not  make  it  easier." 

Mr.  Atwood  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"  Aline,"  he  said,  "  why  is  to-day  different 
from  a  year  ago  ?  " 

He  paused,  but  she  made  no  answer,  and 
he  lifted  his  hand  to  lay  it  on  her  shoulder. 
"  Then  you  told  me  that  you  had  no  heart. 
Have  you  found  that  you  were  mistaken  ?  " 

She  shrank  from  both  words  and  touch. 

"  No,  I  was  not  mistaken.  I  know  my- 
self." 

"  Then,  why  do  you  suffer  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  catching 
her  breath.     Her  hands  covered  her  face. 
1 66 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  It  is  not  that,"  she  sobbed ;  "I  am 
wretched,  but  it  is  not  that." 

Mr.  Atwood's  hand  dropped  from  her 
shoulder  to  her  side. 

"  What  is  it  that  I  feel  throbbing  here  ?  " 
he  said  softly.  "  Aline,  do  you  know  what 
you  and  I  have  to  face  to-night  ?  An  out- 
raged womanhood  has  waked  and  is  wring- 
ing your  heart.  She  is  demanding  of  us 
her  birthright,  that  we  have  sold  for  a  mess 
of  pottage." 

Aline  shuddered  in  his  arms  as  he 
wrapped  them  about  her.  She  hid  her 
face  in  his  breast  with  a  motion  of  terror. 
Her  husband  laid  his  hand  softly  on  her 
hair,  drawing  her  nearer. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ? "  he  asked  ;  "  what 
frightens  you  ?  You  are  not  afraid  of  me 
now  ?  " 

She  clung  close  to  him. 

"  No  ;  you  are  my  guardian  again." 

"  Am  I,  Aline  ?  Are  you  so  sure  that  you 
know  me  ?  Did  you  know  this  woman  I  hold 
in  my  arms  to-night  ?  Dear,  listen  to  me 
for  a  moment.  Can  you  fancy  me  a  stran- 
ger, neither  the  husband  nor  the  guardian, 
167 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


you  have  thought  you  knew  so  well,  yet 
holding  you  thus  in  my  arms,  resting  here 
on  my  heart,  my  face  against  your  face,  my 
lips  close  to  your  ear,  whispering,  '  Why  do 
you  live  this  life  ?  Is  your  husband  loving  ? 
Is  your  home  a  home  ?  Let  me  take -you 
away.  I  love  you  as  a  woman  needs  to  be 
loved.  I  love  you  as  a  man  loves  the  one 
woman  he  wants  for  his  wife.  Can  you 
send  me  from  you  to  keep  up  the  wretched 
farce  you  are  living  ?  Come  away  with  me 
now,  this  hour,  and  learn  what  life  and 
loving  are.' ': 

Aline  struggled  from  his  arms. 

"What  are  you  saying?"  she  cried  help- 
lessly. «  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  caught  her  two  hands,  drawing  her  back. 

"  Answer  me  now,"  he  said,  "  weighing 
nothing  except  that  you  are  my  wife,  and 
that  another  man  has  said  this  to  you.  Do 
these  words  tempt  you  ?  They  offer  nothing 
but  love.  Answer  them  to  me  if  you  can." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  trembling. 

"  I  can  answer.  I  am  tempted.  I  could 
say  yes  and  go  gladly,  but  I  would  say  no. 
Why  have  you  taught  me  this  ?  Why  have 
1 68 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


you  showed  me  what  I  might  never  have 
learned  ? " 

She  turned  away  again,  and  he  let  her 
leave  him. 

"  Yet  you  have  told  me  a  thousand  times 
that  you  were  too  cold  to  listen  to  any 
man's  love.  Aline,  what  tempted  you  in 
those  words  ? " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  could  not  tell  you,  except  that  they 
tempted.  I  want  that  love,  I  suppose, 
even  if  I  have  no  heart.  Why  do  you 
make  me  say  these  things  too  late  ?  " 

"  You  have  already  said  more  than  that. 
You  have  told  me  to-night  that  you  bitterly 
regretted  our  marriage." 

"  That,  too,  you  forced  from  me.  I 
could  have  kept  it  secret.  Because  I  have 
ruined  my  life,  need  yours  be  wrecked  ?  " 

He  had  drawn  nearer  to  her,  and  before 
she  ended  had  taken  her  again  into  his 
arms.  He  spoke  rapidly,  with  emotion  :  — 

"Child,  you  flung  me  the  first  plank  to 

cling  to  !     Aline,  look  into  my  face.     Why 

are  you  so  sure  that  you  know  me  ?     Look 

up,  dear  ;  look  at  me.     Am  I  to  you  what 

169 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


your  husband  should  be  ?  God  knows  I 
have  tried  to  be,  but  I  am  not.  Long 
before  the  law  released  me  I  was  not  your 
guardian  in  feeling.  What  am  I  toward 
you,  dear  ?  Who  is  it  that  is  holding  you 
in  his  arms,  resting  here  on  his  heart,  his 
face  against  your  face,  telling  you  that  he 
loves  you  as  a  woman  needs  to  be  loved, 
as  he  loves  the  one  woman  he  wants  for 
his  wife  ? " 

Aline  lifted  her  head,  gazing  with  pas- 
sionate reproach  into  her  husband's  face. 

"  Stop  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  how  can  you  ? 
You  are  cruel  to  mock  me." 

He  laid  his  hand  tenderly  over  her  eyes, 
then  stooped  to  kiss  the  closed  lids. 

"Be  opened  !  "  he  said  ;  "  my  beloved,  it 
is  your  lover  who  wakes  you.  I  have  loved 
you  with  a  man's  love  since  the  day  you 
were  old  enough  to  take  my  heart  from  me. 
I  had  loved  you  for  years  when  I  married 
you.  Look  up  again,  dear,  and  believe 
me." 

Aline  looked  up.  Her  eyes  met  his. 
"  You  loved  me  like  this ! "  she  cried.  Her 
face  was  quivering.  "  You  loved  me  then  ? 

170 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Oh,  why  did  you  marry  me  ?  Why  did  you 
not  wait  to  woo  and  win  me  as  other  women 
are  won  ?  " 

"  Dear,  was  this  woman  here  for  me  to 
woo  ?  Aline,  you  have  not  been  as  a  wife 
to  me.  I  have  not  been  as  your  husband. 
Did  I  ever  deceive  you  ?  You  shall  be 
wooed  as  no  woman  ever  was  wooed  before. 
Let  us  leave  this  man  who  has  been  worse 
than  no  husband,  and  the  woman  who  was 
less  than  a  wife,  here  in  this  house  that  has 
been  no  home,  while  you  and  I  run  away 
together,  —  your  lover  with  the  woman  he 
loves.  Can  you  send  from  you  this  man 
who  holds  you  in  his  arms  to  keep  up  the 
wretched  farce  we  were  living  ?  Come 
away  with  me  this  very  night,  away  from 
this  place  and  these  people  for  a  time,  to 
learn  what  life  and  loving  are.  Love,  how 
you  tremble  !  Am  I  taking  my  hour-born 
woman  too  far  and  too  fast  ?  " 

She  raised  her  face  bathed  in  tears,  and 
held  out  her  hands  to  him  blindly.  Mr. 
Atwood  grasped  them  both  strongly  in  one 
of  his ;  his  arm  still  about  her,  he  led  her 
to  the  door. 

171 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Aline,"  he  said,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on 
the  lock,  "  you  must*  yourself  decide.  Will 
you  go  or  stay  ?  I  do  not  urge  you.  Re- 
member, it  is  from  the  tried  into  the  uncer- 
tain. I  have  turned  the  hasp  ;  the  door  will 
stay  closed  forever,  or  open  at  a  touch  of 
your  hand,  if  you  wish  it  to  open." 

With  a  swift  motion  Aline  stretched  out 
her  hand. 

They  passed  from  the  room  together, 
closing  the  door  behind  them. 


172 


LINK  V. 
MR.    ATWOOD'S    WIFE. 


The  clasped 

links. 


LINK  V. 

MR.  ATWOOD'S  WIFE. 

THE  Superintendent  made  his  way  to  the 
top  of  the  hall,  and  turned  on  both  gas- 
jets,  until  the  light  flared  up  to  its  highest 
power. 

"  Now,  you  hear  me,  boys,"  he  said, 
standing  with  his  hand  still  on  the  burner, 
and  looking  down  the  room,  "  I  ain't  no 
millionaire,  and  gas  costs.  You  don't  need 
to  see  for  sleeping.  Here  I  find  you've 
been  burning  these  lights  on  full  all  night. 
The  bill  came  in  as  long  as  a  list  of  your 
sins.  I  won't  stand  it.  I'll  have  the  meter 
taken  out  of  the  building  first.  Then  you 
will  be  having  to  spread  up  your  beds  and 
make  your  twilets  in  the  dark." 

His  audience  replied  by  a  general  move- 
ment and  a  murmur,  part  growl,  part  speech, 
like  nothing  human. 

Their  beds  !  their  toilets ! 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  can't  offer  you  more  than  the  soft 
side  of  a  pine  board  and  the  next  man's 
leg  for  a  pillow.  That  you  can  have  for 
the  asking,  but  no  more,"  the  Superintend- 
ent went  on. 

He  spoke  to  those  who  had  asked  and 
received.  As  if  a  rush  of  undertow  from 
the  city  outside  had  swept  into  the  hall, 
casting  on  its  floor  the  dregs  of  life,  a  waste 
of  humanity  stretched  from  wall  to  wall  at 
the  Superintendent's  feet.  That  the  hall 
had  other  uses  was  proven  by  the  benches 
heaped  upon  a  platform  at  the  head  of  the 
room.  Where  these  benches  had  stood, 
that  which  was  created  to  be  the  highest 
form  of  life,  lay  huddled  together,  ragged, 
repulsive,  unclean  within  and  without.  Yet 
in  a  common  degradation,  a  certain  in- 
dividuality asserted  itself.  The  more  en- 
terprising had  secured  the  choice  places, 
and  lay  in  a  circle  about  the  walls  on  care- 
fully spread  newspapers,  which  lifted  them 
that  shaving  above  those  wallowing  con- 
tentedly on  the  bare  boards.  The  sleepy 
heads  that  were  reared  to  listen  as  the 
Superintendent  spoke,  bore  each  its  own 
176 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


particular  expression  of  fallen  manhood. 
Of  the  many  who  slept  heavily  through  all, 
the  Superintendent  noted  one  figure  lying 
in  a  motionless  half-circle  about  his  feet. 
The  prostrate  body  was  curved  as  a  wearied 
animal's  dropping  into  unconsciousness 
where  it  chanced  to  fall.  The  relaxed 
muscles  which  in  a  child  would  have  be- 
tokened natural  sleep  told  of  unnatural 
slumber  in  the  man.  His  arm,  stretched 
out  straight  above  his  head,  pillowed  his 
white  face.  The  gaslight,  shining  full  on 
his  closed  lids,  seemed  to  distress  him ;  for 
his  lips  moved,  and  he  turned  so  restlessly 
that  his  head  dropped  on  the  Superinten- 
dent's boot.  Stooping,  the  Superintendent 
slipped  his  hand  under  the  mass  of  light 
hair,  lifting  the  white  face  back  to  the 
arm  from  which  it  fell.  As  he  did  so  the 
cleanliness  of  both  hair  and  flesh  struck 
him.  He  looked  more  closely  into  the  ex- 
posed features :  what  he  saw  made  him 
draw  in  his  lower  lip,  shaking  his  head  pro- 
testingly.  When  he  rose  and  glanced  once 
more  over  the  hall,  before  shutting  off  the 
light,  its  aspect  seemed  to  strike  him  anew. 
177 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Good  God  !  "  he  muttered,  "  and  folks 
thank  thee  when  a  man-child  is  born  into 
this  world  !  " 

A  tiny  star  of  blue  flame  from  a  gas-jet 
near  the  door  alone  burned  through  the 
long  winter  night.  It  shone  more  and 
more  blue  as  the  morning  light  came  cold 
and  shivering  through  the  dusty  panes  into 
the  room,  and  was  fairly  extinguished  by 
the  first  ray  of  sunshine. 

As  the  uncurtained  windows  lit  up  one 
by  one,  so  one  by  one  the  occupants  or  the 
hall  rose  to  follow  their  various  habits  of 
life.  Those  who  had  chosen  to  make  their 
coats  into  pillows,  made  their  pillows  'into 
coats.  With  surprising  deftness,  born  of 
long  practice,  they  combed  their  hair  with 
their  fingers,  pulled  on  their  hats,  and  de- 
parted. The  neater  element  on  the  news- 
paper beds,  to  whom  water  meant  more 
than  a  poor  apology  for  stronger  drink, 
sought  the  lavatory  opened  for  their  use, 
then  went  their  way  also. 

The  Superintendent,  standing  at  the  hall 
door,  watched  the  dispersing  crowd  until 
the  place  was  empty  save  for  one  figure, 
178 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


lying  in  the  same  exhausted  half-circle 
which  had  curled  about  his  feet  the  night 
before.  He  crossed  the  room,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  man's  shoulder. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  it's  time  for  you  to 
go  to  work  if  you  have  any,  and  to  look  for 
it  if  you  haven't." 

He  shook  the  shoulder  in  his  hand  as  he 
spoke.  The  man's  head  rolled  to  the  floor 
heavily,  yet  he  did  not  rouse.  His  breath- 
ing was  slow  and  regular.  The  upturned 
face  showed  whiter  in  the  daylight  than 
when  the  gaslight  had  touched  it.  The 
Superintendent,  bending  again  to  examine 
him  closely,  saw  that  the  soil  on  his  cloth- 
ing was  fresh,  not  ground  in  as  a  part  of 
the  cloth,  which  seemed,  as  did  the  wearer, 
of  another  quality  than  what  ordinarily 
found  its  way  to  this  floor. 

"  Pshaw,  pshaw,  pshaw  !  "  muttered  the 
Superintendent,  not  impatiently,  but  as 
one  to  whom  the  worst  side  of  the  day's 
work  presents  itself  first.  He  pressed 
his  thumb  against  the  under  lid  of  the 
man's  eye,  thrusting  the  upper  lid  back, 
until  the  dark  pupil  was  exposed  to  his 
179 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


sight.      Then  raising  his  head,  he  called 
loudly  :  — 

"  You  Joseph,  come  up  here !  " 
The  man  who  responded  to  his  call,  hur- 
rying through  the  hall  door,  was  in  full  ac- 
cord with  his  surroundings.  His  gait  was 
a  shuffle,  his  parchment  skin  appeared  too 
tight  for  the  bones  it  covered,  and  the  hair 
on  his  head  and  upper  lip  had  the  appear- 
ance of  being  artificially  introduced  there. 
His  weak  and  restless  eyes  settled  with  dis- 
proportionate anxiety  on  the  Superinten- 
dent's face.  By  his  side  trotted  a  large 
cat,  belled  and  beribboned.  An  immaculate 
fur  and  imperious  bearing  were  witness  to 
his  physical  condition.  He  was  the  only 
high  liver  on  the  premises.  As  his  eye  fell 
on  the  animal,  the  Superintendent  broke 
into  a  laugh  of  pleasure.  The  sound  ended 
in  a  queer  little  crow,  as  contagious  as  the 
laugh  of  a  child.  He  caught  the  cat  in  his 
arms,  rubbing  his  face  against  its  cold  nose 
as  he  talked. 

"  Ain't  you  'shamed  o'  yourself  ?     Ain't 
you   'shamed,   Waif  ?      Out   all  night   like 
this.     You  keep  on  with  these  ways,  and 
180 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


your  grandpa's  goin'  to  whack  you  some 
day.  I  got  a  good  mind  to  make  you  sleep 
in  here  with  the  boys  to-night.  You  want 
to  do  that  ?  No  siree !  Want  to  sleep 
with  me,  do  you  ?  Yes,  sir.  Then  you  got 
to  behave  yourself.  I'll  have  you  lying 
here  like  this  fellow  some  morning,  if  you 
don't  brace  up.  What  do  you  think  of  him, 
Joseph  ?  " 

Joseph  bent  timidly  over  the  corpse-like 
body. 

"  He  looks  for  all  the  world  like  my  poor 
brother  the  mornin'  after  he  died  o'  con- 
sumption," Joseph  ventured. 

The  Superintendent  laughed  crowingly 
again  as  he  set  the  cat  down. 

"  Consumption  !  "  he  retorted  ;  "  con- 
sumption o'  liquor  is  what  he's  got.  Here, 
Joseph,  you  heft  his  feet,  and  I'll  take  his 
head.  Waif,  you  can  follow  with  the 
pieces." 

Joseph  gathered  the  heavy  feet  into  his 
hands.  The  boots  which  covered  them 
had  been  patent  leather.  They  were  now 
cracked  and  rubbed. 

"  It's  bitter  cold,"  Joseph  remonstrated. 
181 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  You'll  kill  him  sure,  if  you  put  him  out 
in  the  street." 

The  Superintendent  lifted  the  man's 
body  easily  in  his  strong  arms,  settling 
the  rolling  head  against  his  breast. 

"  Move  on,"  he  answered ;  "  I'll  put  him 
where  he  belongs.  It's  a  Lord's  mercy  the 
mothers  that  bear  men  haven't  no  foresight, 
nor  hindsight  neither.  Come  along  !  " 

The  two  men  passed  out  from  the  door, 
carrying  between  them  their  living  burden, 
beneath  which  the  cat  walked  with  the 
severe  dignity  of  a  trained  coach  dog. 

It  was  late  in  the  day  when  the  sleeper 
woke,  and  then  he  aroused  from  dreaming 
to  full  consciousness  in  terror.  The  bed 
where  he  lay  was  strange  to  him  ;  the  room, 
with  its  cracked  walls  and  grimy  ceiling 
was  strange  also.  Strangest  of  all,  were 
the  searching  eyes  into  which  his  opened. 
They  impelled  a  truthful  reply  to  the  ques- 
tion which  a  voice  asked  him  :  — 

"  What's  your  name  ? ' ' 

"Archibald  Bracken,"  he  answered;  and, 
at  the  sound  of  his  own  words,  woke  wholly. 
He  saw  that  he  was  lying  on  a  rough  bed 
182 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


in  a  rough  room,  where  stood  three  or  four 
more  beds  of  a  like  kind.  The  only  ac- 
companying furniture  was  a  table  with  sev- 
eral pitchers  and  basins  upon  it.  A  cheap 
mirror  hung  against  the  wall  above  them. 
By  the  bedstead  stood  a  middle-aged  man 
of  low  stature  but  strong  build.  A  great 
cat  lay  half  on  his  shoulder,  half  in  his 
arm,  and  he  kept  stroking  it  with  his  hand. 

"  Do  you  know  where  I  am  ?  "  Archibald 
Bracken  asked  of  him. 

"  Do  I  know  where  you  are  !  "  repeated 
the  man  by  the  bed  with  a  crowing  laugh. 
His  wide-open  blue  eyes  twinkled.  "  Well, 
yes,  as  you're  on  my  bed." 

"  Where  was  I  last  night  ? " 

"  Can't  you  remember  ?  " 

Bracken  closed  his  eyelids  suddenly,  with 
the  spasm  of  a  reviving  memory. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  slowly ;  "  I  was  in 
hell." 

"  No,  you  weren't,  young  man,"  came  the 
cheery  answer,  "but  you  soon  will  be  on 
these  lines.  You  were  in  my  Rescue  Room, 
that's  where  you  were,  and  glad  to  get 
there,  I  reckon.  You  don't  want  to  be 

183 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


calling  it  names  to  the  Superintendent  next 
day."  The  speaker  threw  his  head  back 
slightly  when  talking,  as  if  to  show  the 
quizzical  smile  lurking  under  his  grey  mous- 
tache. 

Bracken  closed  his  eyes  again  wearily, 
without  reply. 

"  You  feel  kinder  faint  ?  How  would  a 
mug  of  strong  coffee  seerh  ?  Come  along, 
Waif !  We'll  get  it  for  him.,  won't  we,  old 
man  ?  When  you've  lost  your  cat  for  all 
night,  you're  kinder  foolish  about  him  the 
whole  day  afterward.  I'll  be  back  in  a 
minute." 

The  Superintendent  was  still  holding  the 
cat  in  his  arm  when  he  returned  carrying 
in  his  free  hand  a  mug  of  steaming  coffee. 

Its  odour  filled  the  nostrils  of  the  weak- 
ened man  gratefully.  He  opened  his  eyes 
and  took  the  mug,  drinking  its  contents 
eagerly.  As  he  raised  his  arm,  the  older 
man  laid  his  fingers  on  the  soiled  sleeve 
which  covered  it,  eying  the  texture  of  the 
cloth. 

"  How  many  suits  have  you  wore  out  on 
the  road?" 

184 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Archibald  Bracken  looked  up  enquir- 
ingly. 

"  I  mean,  how  many  suits  have  you  wore 
out  tramping?  Is  this  your  first?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Was  it  given  to  you  ?  " 

"  Ng." 

"  I  thought  not.  You  haven't  wore  out 
the  face  your  mother  gave  you  yet,  either. 
Joseph,  now,  had  wore  out  two  or  three 
faces  on  the  road,  and  rinds  and  rinds  o' 
clothes  before  I  got  hold  of  him.  That's 
why  he  ain't  fit  to  do  much  more  than 
make  coffee  now.  He  makes  that  good, 
though,  don't  he?  I  caught  him  one  night 
when  I  was  out  fishing  in  another  man's 
meeting.  But  I  can't  ever  trust  him  out  of 
eyeshot  —  no  more  than  I  can  Waif,  here." 

His  voice  rose  to  the  oddest  squeal  as  he 
turned  again  to  his  cat.  "  Hi,  yah,  you 
Waif!  Ain't  you 'shamed,  sir! — went  on 
a  hoodie  last  night,  did  you  ?  Comin'  in 
here  this  morning  half  froze,  and  telling 
me  a  tale  'bout  a  sick  friend.  I  know  you. 
You're  jest  one  of  the  boys,  you  are.  Ex- 
pect to  sleep  in  my  bed  to-night,  too. 
185 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


That's  the  trick !  Want  to  run  away  and 
bum  it,  and  come  back  and  find  the  old 
place  waiting  for  you.  I  ought  to  put  you 
right  into  Congress  Hall  with  the  boys,  I 
ought.  What  part  of  the  world  do  you 
come  from  ?  " 

He  turned  suddenly  from  the  cat  j£o  the 
man. 

Bracken  looked  up  into  the  face  of  his 
questioner.  His  lips  seemed  as  if  deliber- 
ately sealing,  and  his  grasp  on  the  mug 
relaxed.  The  Superintendent  waved  his 
hand  easily. 

"  It  don't  matter.  We  have  representa- 
tives from  ev'ry  State  and  Territory  in  the 
Union  a-settin'  in  session  here  ev'ry  night. 
That's  why  I  call  it  Congress  Hall.  You 
can  stay  where  you're  lying  now  till  night, 
then  you  must  go  back  with  your  brother 
senators.  These  beds  are  for  me  and  my 
converts.  When  you  get  through  with  that 
mug,  set  it  down.  I've  got  some  work  to 
do  now.  There's  a  lady  up  town  that  gives 
me  her  husband's  old  clothes  regular  for 
my  boys,  and  the  good  Lord  made  him 
take  on  some  flesh  lately,  so  she  says  she's 
186 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


just  packed  up  ev'ry  blessed  thing  he  had, 
and  sent  it  to  me  —  that  whole  trunkf ul. 
I'm  sortin'  'em  out  now." 

He  pointed  to  the  centre  of  the  room, 
where  stood  an  open  trunk,  part  of  its  con- 
tents still  unpacked,  part  strewn  about  on 
the  bare  boards  of  the  floor. 

Bracken  lay  on  the  bed  listening  dully  to 
the  Superintendent's  dropping  talk,  ad- 
dressed half  to  himself,  half  to  the  cat,  as 
he  worked  over  the  clothing. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  the  hands 
which  had  packed  the  trunk  with  gifts  for 
the  needy  had  been  directed  by  a  very  inex- 
perienced or  a  reckless  brain. 

As  the  Superintendent  drew  out  article 
after  article  belonging  to  the  wardrobe  of  a 
man  of  fashion,  he  scratched  his  head  per- 
plexedly over  the  uses  of  some,  and  chuckled 
over  the  in  appropriateness  of  others.  When 
he  discovered  a  heavy  great-coat  and  sev- 
eral suits  of  warm  cloth,  he  crowed  with 
delight,  assigning  them  to  one  name  and 
another  as  he  shook  them  from  their  folds. 
The  luxurious  underclothing  he  flung  into 
a  contemptuous  heap,  pushing  them  care- 
187 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


lessly  aside  with  his  foot.  Waif  soon  dis- 
covered the  pile,  and,  first  kneading  its 
softness  with  his  feet,  laid  himself  down 
purringly. 

"That's  it,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
catching  sight  of  him  enthroned.  "  You've 
found  about  its  one  use  to  me,  Waif.  I 
might  as  well  dress  my  men  in  cobwebs  as 
in  those  things.  But  look  here,  will  you ! 
What's  this  ?  If  it  ain't  just  the  ticket  for 
Joseph.  He's  been  crying  for  a  black  coat 
for  Sundays  these  weeks.  I  told  him  to 
keep  on  prayin'  and  trustin,'  and  here  it  is. 
\Vaif,  you  lazy  tramp,  help  me  shake  it  out. 
What  in  life's  this  cut  ?  Well,  I'm  blessed 
if  she  ain't  "  - 

He  dropped  the  coat  on  the  floor  and  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  trunk  to  laugh 
until  the  tears  ran  over  his  face.  Wiping 
them  away  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  he 
stooped  and  lifted  the  coat  again.  As  the 
long  satin-faced  tails  swept  the  floor  he  fell 
into  another  crowing  ecstasy. 

"A  regular  full-dress  suit,"  he  gasped. 
"  Bless  her  onthinkin'  soul  !  Now,  who'd 
she  imagine  was  goin'  to  wear  this  thing 
1 88 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


down  here  !  I  see  Joseph  in  it  of  a  Sun- 
day, carrying  the  tails  over  his  arms,  and 
turnin'  the  satin  lining  out  on  the  boys  ! 
Oh  my,  my  "  —  He  was  still  shaking  as  he 
drew  out  the  rest  of  the  costume. 

"  Vest,  pants,  coat,  —  it's  all  here,  and 
ain't  it  fine  ?  " 

He  rubbed  the  broadcloth  against  his 
face  as  he  ruminated. 

"  I  might  sell  it,  but  I  kinder  hate  to. 
I'd  never  get  its  worth  in  a  shop.  I'd  like 
to  keep  it  just  to  look  at,  like  a  doll.  I 
guess  I'll  have  to  pack  it  away  and  take 
private  bids  on  it." 

He  threw  out  the  remaining  contents  of 
the  trunk,  and  again  seating  himself  on  its 
edge,  laid  the  coat  on  his  knees,  seeking 
for  the  original  folds.  After  absorbed 
twisting  and  turning,  during  which  his  lips 
worked  as  earnestly  as  his  hands,  he  looked 
dubiously  at  the  bundle  of  cloth  which  his 
labours  represented. 

"  You  will  have  to  lay  it  on  the  floor  to 
fold  it,"  said  a  voice  from  the  bed.  The 
Superintendent  looked  up  quickly. 

"If  you  know  so  much  about  folding 
189 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


dress-suits,  young  man,  you'd  better  get  up 
and  fold  this  one.  Have  you  got  your  back- 
bone again  ?  There's  nothing  like  sleep  and 
coffee  to  fetch  it." 

"Yes,"  answered  Bracken,  rising,  "I  am 
myself  again,  fortunately  or  unfortunately, 
thanks  to  you." 

"  Do  you  feel  like  you  owe  me  some- 
thing ?  Would  you  like  to  pay  it  ?  " 

His  guest's  reply  halted  between  pride 
and  humiliation. 

"  I  will  pay  you  with  the  first  opportunity." 

"  It's  a  bargain.  To-morrow's  Sunday, 
and  you  can  pay  me  by  staying  to  my  gos- 
pel meeting.  That  will  make  us  quits.  You 
could  make  a  honest  livin'  just  folding 
clothes,  young  man.  You've  polished  off 
that  coat  while  I  was  thinking  about  it.  It 
might  have  come  from  the  store.  Fold  that 
vest  and  pants  too,  will  you  ?  Now,  ain't 
it  pitiful  to  think  of  a  woman  having  no 
more  knowledge  than  to  send  that  here  ? 
She  means  the  very  best,  poor  thing.  Well, 
she's  young  enough  to  learn.  Her  hus- 
band's out  of  town,  or  this  ridickerlous  thing 
wouldn't  a  happened,  I  can  tell  you.  He's 
190 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


got  sense  enough  to  balance  ten  like  her ; 
but  then  he's  a  generation  older  than  she 
is.  How  I  came  to  know  about  her  was 
through  her  maid.  I  pulled  a  boy  of  hers 
out  of  the  gutter  for  her,  and  in  turn  she 
introjuced  me  to  her  mistress.  That's  the 
way  it  goes.  Bread  on  the  waters !  " 

Bracken,  kneeling  on  the  floor  over  the 
clothing,  listening  half  absent  in  mind, 
raised  his  head  to  reply,  and  found  his  eyes 
on  a  level  with  a  name  and  address  printed 
in  distinct  black  letters  on  the  trunk's  side. 
He  started  back  with  a  smothered  exclama- 
tion, then  bent  quickly  over  the  garment  he 
held,  folding  and  refolding  it  before  he 
spoke. 

"  Is  that  her  name  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice,  and  pointing  out  the  letters. 

The  Superintendent  peered  over  the  side 
of  the  trunk.  "  '  A.  B.  Atwood,'  "  he  read. 
"Yes,  that's  it.  I  didn't  see  that  before. 
'  Church  Square?  They've  took  a  house 
opposite  the  biggest  church  here." 

"What,"  asked  Bracken  deliberately, 
"  what  was  her  maiden  name  ?  " 

The  Superintendent  shook  his  head. 
191 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"I  can't  tell  you.  I  only  knew  her 
since  she's  married.  They're  strangers  — 
just  here  for  the  winter.  Ain't  this  a  funny 
world !  Now  look  here.  Just  to-night  the 
same  woman  that  in  her  almighty  ignorance 
sent  me  that  dress-suit  is  giving  a  ball  that 
I  know  more  about  than  any  of  the  fine 
folk  who'll  be  there.  Her  husband,  he 
don't  deny  her  anything  in  reason,  but 
she's  a  pride  about  keeping  in  her  allow- 
ance. I  sensed  that.  When  I  was  talking 
up  my  Rescue  Home  here  to  her,  she  told 
me  right  out  how  it  was,  and  said  she  hadn't 
a  penny  to  give  me  then,  but  I  could  see 
she  felt  it ;  and,  sure  enough,  next  day  came 
a  good  check.  Where  do  you  think  she 
got  that  money?  It  was  half  what  her 
husband  gave  her  for  her  ball  to-night. 
That's  what  her  maid  told  me.  Don't  you 
call  that  learning  ?  I'm  goin'  to  teach  her 
more  too  before  I  get  through.  Are  you 
going  to  fold  the  rest  of  them  things  ?  V 

Archibald   Bracken   had   drawn   the   re- 
maining clothes  nearer,  and  was  mechani- 
cally folding  these  also.     He  dropped  them 
as  the  Superintendent  spoke. 
192 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  I  wish  you  would.  You  do  it  a  heap 
better  than  I  can.  Put  the  best  back  in 
the  trunk  with  the  dress-suit,  and  lay  the 
rest  out  on  the  beds  for  use.  I'll  go  down- 
stairs now  and  look  after  Joseph.  He's 
been  quiet  so  long,  I'm  afraid  he's  in  mis- 
chief. He's  just  like  a  child.  Come  on, 
Waif.  Did  you  ever  see  a  cat  before  that 
follows  like  a  dog  ?  Look  here,  right  at 
my  heels  ev'rywhere  I  go.  Want  to  get  in 
your  grandpa's  arms  ?  Jump,  then." 

As  the  door  closed  on  man  and  beast, 
Archibald  Bracken  with  a  gesture  of  abhor- 
rence swept  from  him  the  clothes  by  which 
he  was  surrounded,  and  sat  in  the  midst  of 
the  confusion,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
When  he  looked  up  again  at  the  printed 
name  and  address  mutely  facing  him,  he 
flushed  angrily,  and  bending  forward  struck 
scornfully  with  the  back  of  his  hand  at  the 
offending  letters.  With  the  childish  action 
the  flush  on  his  face  deepened,  and  he  drew 
in  his  breath  quickly.  He  sat  staring  be- 
fore him  gloomily,  yet  with  more  composure, 
until  his  gaze  again  dropped  on  the  scat- 
tered clothing,  then  his  open  hand  suddenly 

i93 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


swept  out  and  closed,  as  if  grasping  an  em- 
bodied thought  which  rose  before  him. 

"  Yes,  I  will  do  it,"  he  said  aloud,  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet.  "  I  will  see  her  once  more." 

From  the  clothing  which  he  had  thrust 
from  him  as  if  the  very  touch  offended,  he 
made  a  hurried  selection,  one  article  here, 
another  there,  until  a  full  suit  of  the  under- 
wear lay  spread  out  on  the  bed.  He  drew 
out  from  the  trunk  the  folded  evening  suit, 
and,  tossing  over  the  contents  of  the  trays 
until  he  found  the  smaller  accessories  he 
desired,  laid  all  carefully  together. 

Twenty  minutes  later  the  cheap  looking- 
glass  over  the  rude  toilet-table  reflected  a 
figure  such  as  its  depths  had  never  before 
held,  —  that  of  a  man  immaculately  attired 
in  full  evening  dress,  whose  light  hair,  care- 
fully brushed,  fell  away  from  the  trained 
parting  over  dark  eyes  blazing  with  excite- 
ment, and  lips  that  parted  in  a  derisive 
smile,  as  he  glanced  about  the  poor  room, 
and  at  his  own  white-faced  image.  Then, 
turning  away,  Bracken  snatched  up  the 
great-coat  over  which  the  Superintendent 
had  so  much  rejoiced.  Wrapping  himself 
194 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


hastily  in  its  folds,  he  walked  boldly  from 
the  door,  and  down  the  stairs,  making  his 
way  unchallenged  from  the  house. 

Outside  he  found  the  city  lamps  lit  and 
burning  on  either  side  of  the  street  in 
short  serpentine  trails,  for  it  was  a  hill  city. 
As  he  looked  ahead  of  him,  the  line  of 
lights  broke  off  abruptly  at  each  summit. 
From  the  top  of  the  slopes  they  stretched 
out  longer,  curving  down,  then  up  again  in 
the  next  ascent. 

Bracken  wandered  on  aimlessly.  The 
night  air  played  revivingly  on  his  face,  and, 
as  his  lips  parted,  he  drank  it  in  as  a  cool- 
ing draught.  Through  the  open  windows 
of  the  druggists'  shops  he  passed,  he  could 
see  the  clocks  hanging  within,  and  follow 
the  passing  of  time.  Once  when  there 
came  quite  a  distance  between  shop  and 
shop,  his  hand  moved  mechanically  toward 
his  watch-pocket.  Finding  it  empty  he 
started  and  stopped,  then  threw  back  his 
head  with  a  harsh  laugh  and  acceptance  of 
returning  memory.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
when  he  at  last  set  his  face  in  a  new  direc- 
tion, taking  close  account  of  the  names  and 
i95 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


numbers  of  the  streets  he  passed.  His 
step  quickening  with  the  consciousness  of 
a  definite  end  in  view,  he  soon  reached  a 
point  where  a  massive  building  rose  before 
him,  set  in  the  midst  of  a  square  of  green 
grass. 

The  churchly  pile  was  topped  with  spread- 
ing domes  and  high  belfries,  above  which 
slender  crosses  showed  dimly  against  the 
sky. 

Archibald  Bracken  paused  a  moment  to 
look  up  at  a  belfry  clock.  The  light  burn- 
ing behind  its  glass  dial  once  more  gave 
him  the  hour.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street  was  a  large  house  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated in  every  window.  A  string  of  car- 
riages blocking  the  way  before  the  door, 
the  hum  of  voices  and  laughter,  with  an 
occasional  escaping  strain  of  music,  told  of 
feasting  within.  Bracken  crossed  the  street 
and  looked  at  the  closed  door.  For  the 
first  time  he  hesitated,  then  moved  quickly 
up  the  steps.  The  door  opened  noiselessly 
at  his  approach,  and  he  entered.  Looking 
about  him  deliberately,  he  walked  through 
the  long  hall  inside,  past  open  doorways 
196 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


framing  gay  tableaux  of  colour  and  banked 
flowers,  of  graceful  laughing  women  and 
crowding  men,  on  to  the  dressing-room  at 
the  back  of  the  house.  It  was  almost 
empty  when  he  reached  it.  Two  or  three 
men  standing  talking  together  had  already 
laid  aside  their  hats  and  coats.  Archibald 
Bracken  flung  off  his  coat  also,  and  followed 
them.  As  they  entered  the  ballroom  to 
circle  about  their  hostess,  he  could  see 
nothing  but  their  black-coated  backs  and 
bending  heads.  Then  they  parted  to  left 
and  right,  disclosing  her  standing  against 
the  heavy-leaved  foliage,  alone  before  him. 
The  flame-coloured  robe  she  wore  wrapped 
her  closely,  as  might  an  actual  flame. 
Above  its  unrelieved  brightness  her  throat 
rose  like  a  white  cherry  blossom  breaking 
from  its  warm  sheath.  Half  on  her  bosom, 
half  on  the  folds  above,  lay  a  spray  of 
amaryllis,  its  stiff,  flat  stem  struck  as  a  band 
of  green  across  her  heart.  From  the  chain 
about  her  neck  hung  drops  of  opals,  the 
shifting  flames  burning  in  their  hearts  un- 
quenchably  as  vestal  fires.  Opals,  swaying 
on  the  quivering  wires  which  bound  them 
197 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


in  her  heaped-up  hair,  baptised  her  with 
dancing  light.  The  warm  blood  that  bathed 
her  from  bosom  to  brow  as  she  grasped  the 
fact  of  his  presence  seemed  to  Archibald 
Bracken  to  transform  herself  into  a  flame, 
elusive,  unapproachable,  as  those  encased 
in  her  jewels.  She  came  a  step  to  meet 
him,  and  he  saw  only  the  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Archie  !  " 

Her  voice  was  a  breath,  yet  in  his  ears 
and  hers  it  echoed  through  the  rooms. 

"  Not  here,"  she  murmured  hastily ;  "  up 
the  stair;  the  first  room  to  the  right.  I 
will  follow  you  when  I  can  escape." 

In  the  withdrawing  room  at  the  head 
of  the  stair  he  waited  for  her.  When  she 
came  she  was  breathless,  as  one,  in  fact, 
escaping  pursuit.  She  closed  the  door  be- 
hind her,  and  moved  quickly  toward  him, 
her  hand  outstretched.  Bracken  let  her 
come  within  a  step  of  him,  then,  looking 
full  into  her  face,  he  put  his  hand  behind 
him.  Hers  dropped  to  the  back  of  the  chair 
by  which  she  stood  as  she  spoke  sadly :  — 

"  You  have  sought   me   in   anger,   then, 
Archie  ?     You  can  refuse  my  greeting  ?  " 
198 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


He  bowed  gravely. 

"  You,  madam,  are  not  the  injured  one. 
Aline,  what  have  you  to  say  ? " 

She  replied  impulsively,  bending  toward 
him,  — 

"  That  I  thank  God  in  seeing  you  again." 

"  What  God  ?  " 

Aline  turned  from  him  sharply,  covering 
her  eyes  with  one  hand ;  the  other,  resting 
on  the  chair-back,  trembled  as  he  went 
on  :  — 

"  The  God  by  whose  name  you  vowed  to 
be  faithful  to  me  in  my  reverses,  to  wait 
for  me  forever,  if  need  be  ?  The  God  you 
called  to  witness  in  the  vows  we  repeated 
together  as  a  closer  binding  on  the  day  we 
parted,  you  resting  sobbing  in  these  arms  ?  " 

She  moved  quickly  to  face  him,  the  tears 
still  hanging  on  her  lashes. 

"  Enough  ;  you  pass  all  bounds.  I  re- 
fuse to  listen." 

The  man's  anger  seemed  to  rise  as  a 
wall  before  his  eyes,  shutting  out  her  pro- 
test. He  rushed  on  blindly,  flinging  out 
words  like  blows  :  — 

"  You  shall  hear  me.  If  but  for  once  in 
199 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


your  ignorant  life,  you  shall  see  things  as 
they  are.  You  who  could  throw  me  aside 
as  a  worn-out  glove,  forgetting  how  often  it 
has  caressed  your  hand,  your  cheek,  can 
stand  there  and  talk  to  me  of  your  God  — 
you  who  sold  him  for  mammon  without  a 
quiver  ?  " 

With  a  motion  rapid  and  irresistible  as 
that  of  a  humming-bird,  she  had  caught  his 
hand  before  he  could  elude  her. 

"  You  shall  hear  me  also  before  you 
accuse  me  of  barter.  Did  I  know  God 
from  mammon  in  my  ignorant  life  ?  You, 
too,  were  a  part  of  that  life.  You  lived  it 
with  me.  Was  there  a  greater  crime  than 
failure  in  our  calendar  ?  That  crime  you 
committed.  Ignorant !  I  was  in  an  abyss 
of  ignorance  that  I  look  back  on  shudder- 
ingly.  You  have  learned  by  suffering, 
Archie.  Do  you  think  I  have  not  suffered 
in  learning  ?  " 

She   turned   away,   her   voice   breaking. 

Bracken  drew  a  slow  step  nearer  to  her. 

Raising  his  hand,  he  touched  lightly  the 

jewels  that  trembled  on  her  bowed  head. 

"  "  Tell  me,"  he  asked ;    "  this  man  who 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


bought  you,  who  clothes  you  in  jewels,  do 
you  pay  this  suffering  as  their  price  ?  " 

Aline  raised  her  face  to  him,  a  smile 
breaking  through  the  quivering  of  her  lips. 
The  tears  blinding  her  eyes  hid  from  her 
the  hands  which  were  suddenly  stretched 
out  toward  her  and  as  quickly  withdrawn. 

"  After  I  had  broken  with  you,"  she  said 
gently,  "  I  sold  myself  to  the  highest  bid- 
der. From  the  man  who  bought  me,  from 
the  man  who  is  my  husband,  I  have  learned 
of  how  little  value  was  the  woman  he  pur- 
chased. It  was  dross  for  dross,  and  he 
knew  it  in  the  buying.  The  woman  he  has 
created  longs  only  to  be  worthy  of  him. 
Through  him,  indeed,  I  first  learned  to  suf- 
fer ;  not  by  him.  His  voice  pointed  out  to 
me  the  wrong  I  had  done  you.  He  taught 
me  remorse,  repentance  for  my  faithless- 
ness. He  has  helped  me  to  search  for  you 
everywhere,  in  every  place.  Archie,  my 
worst  dreams  have  been  of  seeing  you  des- 
titute, throwing  away  the  life  I  had  ruined. 
Where  have  you  hidden  so  cruelly  ?  Why 
have  you  let  your  mother,  your  father,  why 
have  you  let  me  so  suffer  ?  Do  you  now 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


wonder  that  I  thanked  God  in  seeing  you, 
and  seeing  you  thus  ?  Had  you  been  found, 
as  I  have  dreamed  shudderingly  of  finding 
you,  I  think  it  must  have  broken  my  heart." 

His  face  hardened  and  darkened. 

"  Let  it  break,  then,"  he  answered  bru- 
tally. "Aline,  you  must  have  become  a 
good  woman.  Only  a  good  woman  could 
have  so  flaunted  the  noble  husband,  the 
happy  marriage,  in  the  cast-off  lover's  face. 
Look  at  me !  Do  clothes  so  make  the 
man  ?  Stripped  of  them,  I  am  the  being  of 
your  lowest  dreams.  Do  you  not  recognise 
these  robes  of  samite  ?  They  are  the  noble 
husband's  cast-off  raiment.  None  of  all 
this  is  I,  save  myself,  or  what  is  left  of  me, 
and  these." 

He  thrust  out  his  foot  rudely.  It  was 
shod  in  his  own  patent  leather  shoe,  cracked, 
rubbed,  and  incongruous. 

"  As  you  see,"  he  ended  grimly,  "  I  do 
not  stand  in  your  husband's  shoes,  where 
I  should  by  every  right." 

Aline  shuddered  at  his  laugh,  drawing 
back  from  him  speechless,  her  eyes  widen- 
ing with  horror  as  he  went  on  :  — 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  Do  you  know  where  I  spent  last  night  ? 
Let  me  draw  a  picture  for  you.  Think 
of  your  ballroom  as  empty  of  furniture, 
and  for  its  carpet  imagine  wallowing  hu- 
man beings.  Where  men  are  now  dancing, 
laughing,  jesting,  walking  upright,  picture 
them  lying  lower  than  the  beasts  of  the 
field.  '  On  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and 
dust  shalt  thou  eat.'  Of  these  I  am  now 
one.  In  the  Rescue  Home  which  your 
patronage  honours  I  have  eaten  their  dust. 
I  have  lain  in  their  common  bed.  I  have 
breathed  them  into  my  nostrils.  I  smell 
them  now.  I  have  held  their  hideous  mur- 
mur in  my  ears.  Have  you  ever  heard  it  ? 
Here  an  oath,  there  a  word,  there  a  laugh  ; 
the  shaking  chain  of  the  bound  tiger ! 
Have  you  dreamed  such  dreams  ?  From 
that  I  have  come,  to  that  I  return.  Like 
Dives,  I  have  wished  for  an  hour  on  earth. 
Unlike  him,  my  wish  has  been  granted. 
His  was  the  easier  part.  My  hour  is  over." 

He  moved  toward  the  door  as  he  spoke, 
but  Aline  was  before  him.  She  was  quiv- 
ering from  head  to  foot;  her  white  face, 
drawn  and  desperate,  rose  startlingly  above 
203 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


her  gala  dress.  The  hands  which  she 
stretched  out  imploringly  were  shaking. 

"You  shall  not  go.  If  my  suffering  is 
nothing  to  you,  think  of  your  father,  your 
mother.  They  have  forgiven  me ;  they 
have  been  searching  for  you  with  me.  Let 
me  tell  them  where  you  are.  At  a  word 
they  would  go  to  you,  even  through  the  hor- 
rors you  describe  —  as  would  I." 

"  You,"  he  repeated.  "  You  know  noth- 
ing of  what  you  speak.  The  description  is 
gilded,  yet  see  how  it  has  driven  the  blood 
from  your  cheeks,  the  power  from  your 
body,  and  set  horror  in  your  eyes." 

"  I  know  more  than  you  realise.  I  have 
seen  and  talked  with  the  Superintendent 
of  the  Rescue  Home.  Do  you  know  his 
story  ?  He  has  lain  as  low  as  the  lowest 
there.  He  has  known  every  horror  which 
they  know,  and  now  he  gives  himself  to 
save  others.  He  was  able  to  retrace  his 
steps.  He  has  made  his  very  sins  a  ladder 
of  salvation  for  others.  Archie,  hear  me. 
Out  of  my  own  life  I  speak  to  you.  I  fell 
as  low  as  you  can  have  fallen.  I  sold  my 
body  as  surely  as  you  sell  your  soul.  Had 
204 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


I  then  possessed  a  soul  for  selling,  that  too 
would  I  have  sold.  Look  in  my  eyes. 
They  are  not  the  eyes  you  used  to  know. 
Are  they  those  of  a  fallen  woman  ?  I  have 
been  rescued  as  you  can  be.  Do  not  go 
back.  Have  mercy  on  me.  Let  my  re- 
pentance atone  in  part !  " 

Her  clasped  hands  were  lifted,  entreating 
him.  She  bent  more  and  more  imploringly 
toward  him,  until,  as  she  ended,  she  was 
kneeling  at  his  feet.  He  lifted  her  in 
silence.  Aline  stood  before  him  sobbing, 
shaken,  unable  to  support  herself.  He 
drew  her  to  a  near  sofa.  In  so  doing,  he 
avoided  her  touch,  and  moved  a  step  from 
her  when  she  was  seated. 

"  Aline,"  he  began,  "  in  part  you  wrong 
me.  I  did  not  seek  you  expecting  to  cause 
such  suffering,  or  to  see  this  woman.  A 
wild  impulse  made  me  follow  you  here, 
that  was  all.  I  had  no  plan.  Had  I  known 
that  my  fall  could  mean  all  this  to  you,  you 
should  never  have  learned  of  it.  Perhaps 
I  possess  the  true  criminal's  temperament, 
and  have  no  power  to  foresee  consequences. 
Certainly  in  my  plunge  into  oblivion  I  did 
205 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


not  reckon  on  sinking  to  this.  So  late  as 
a  week  ago  I  would  have  called  it  impossi- 
ble. Now  that  I  am  what  I  am,  you  must 
let  me  be  to  fall  yet  lower,  or  rise  again  as 
it  happens.  Do  not  feel  too  responsible. 
A  man's  deeds  are  on  his  own  head,  and 
one  good  has  been  gained  by  our  meeting. 
I  do  not  carry  resentment  beyond  the  grave. 
The  woman  who  roused  its  bitterness  is 
dead.  You  are  not  she." 

Aline  looked  up  newly  stirred. 

"  Archie,  if  you  can  so  forgive  me,  forget 
too.  Let  me  wake  you  from  this  hideous 
life  as  I  have  waked  from  dreams  of  you. 
Let  me  write  one  line  to  those  who  would 
give  their  world  to  receive  it." 

"No,"  he  answered  quickly;  "  not  for 
ten  worlds.  You  know  nothing,  nothing  of 
the  depths  to  which  man  can  fall,  to  which 
I  have  fallen.  Between  me  and  those  I 
have  left  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed.  If  it 
is  to  be  crossed,  I,  not  they,  must  pass  it. 
No,  Aline,  when  I  leave  you,  as  I  shall  in  a 
moment,  I  forbid  you  to  speak  one  word  of 
me  to  them,  to  any  one  ;  and  I  have  the  right 
to  do  so.  Forgive  me  if  I  remind  you 
206 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


that  your  power  to  dictate  in  my  life  is 
over." 

She  bowed  her  head,  accepting  sadly. 

"  That  I  have  forfeited.  I  do  not  assert 
it.  I  will  do  nothing  against  your  will.  In 
return,  in  parting,  Archie,  I  must  ask  of 
you  two  favours.  You  can  grant  both,  for 
they  bind  you  to  so  little." 

She  raised  her  hand,  and  detached  from 
her  hair  a  part  of  the  gleaming  oriflamme 
which  quivered  there.  As  she  held  out  the 
jewelled  pin,  it  flashed  as  a  wand  tipped 
with  fire. 

"  If  I  know  that  you  have  this  by  you," 
she  said,  "  I  shall  be  less  wretched.  At 
the  worst,  I  shall  know  that  you  need  not 
be  hungry  or  shelterless." 

He  shook  his  head,  drawing  back. 

"  Aline,  you  must  see  that  I  cannot,"  he 
began,  but,  looking  into  her  face,  the  words 
died  on  his  lips.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  wish," 
he  said  gently ;  "  give  me  the  jewel." 

Her  face  cleared  as  he  took  it.  Her  next 
words  were  stronger  :  — 

"  I  said  two  favours ;  one  you  have 
granted,  and  now  the  other.  I  want  you 
207 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


to  remember  through  all,  through  whatever 
may  be  or  threaten,  that  the  door  of  your 
home  is  always  open  to  you.  For  that  I 
can  answer.  Archie,  it  is  more  than  open. 
Your  father's,  your  mother's  arms  are 
stretched  out  from  it  toward  you.  When 
the  day  comes  that  you  feel  you  can  return 
to  them,  to  your  own  place  in  the  world, 
then  you  will  write  to  me,  will  you  not  ? 
Let  me  be  your  messenger.  If  you  can 
find  no  words  in  which  to  tell  me,  then 
send  me  a  bare  line,  a  token ;  anything 
which  I  could  recognise  as  coming  from 
your  hands  would  be  enough.  I  should 
understand,  and  be  able  to  interpret  to 
them.  Remember  the  door  is  always  wide 
—  listen  !  Some  one  is  calling  me.  They 
are  coming ;  Archie,  speak  to  me  quickly ! 
You  will  promise  ?  " 

She  laid  her  hand   entreatingly  on  his 
arm. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "so  much  I  promise." 
The   door   broke    open   to    admit   a   re- 
proachful, noisy  body  of  revellers,  and  the 
woman  whose  anguish  had  dragged  her  to 
her  knees  but  a  few  moments  before,  stood 
208 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


on  the  same  spot  to  receive  them,  laughing 
her  apologies. 

Archibald  Bracken,  following  her  to  the 
landing  outside,  stood  where  the  light  from 
the  stairway  lamp  fell  brightly  on  his  worn 
shoes.  He  noted  it,  but  without  realisation, 
until,  guided  by  a  swift  feminine  motion, 
the  flame-colored  train  swept  to  one  side, 
covering  his  feet.  Then  he  looked  up  with 
a  start  to  see  also  that  her  gloved  hand 
almost  imperceptibly  motioned  him  toward 
the  stairway,  at  that  moment  deserted. 
Obeying  the  gesture,  he  descended,  but  at 
the  first  turn  paused  for  a  moment,  looking 
back  to  see  her  standing  above  him  in  the 
flood  of  light,  surrounded  by  adulation, 
laughing,  radiant,  sparkling  as  the  ori- 
flamme  above  her  head,  from  which  as  he 
alone  knew  one  of  the  brightest  gems 
was  missing. 

Once  out  of  the  house  he  ran,  in  what 
direction  he  scarcely  knew.  When  he 
finally  turned  into  a  street  strikingly  famil- 
iar, he  doubled  his  pace  as  a  lost  dog  when 
it  suddenly  finds  the  home  trail.  It  was 
Sunday  morning  when  he  reached  the 
209 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Rescue  Home.  His  knock  was  answered 
by  the  Superintendent  himself,  who  stood 
looking  at  his  panting  guest  as  if  consider- 
ing whether  he  should  not  shut  the  door  in 
his  face.  Waif,  walking  close  after  him, 
leaned  his  head  against  the  Superinten- 
dent's leg,  looking  up  into  the  wanderer's 
face  as  if  also  regarding  him  judicially. 

The  Superintendent  seemed  about  to 
speak,  then  changed  his  mind.  He  stood 
aside  from  the  door,  and  Archibald  Bracken 
entered.  In  that  moment  Waif  seized  his 
chance.  From  between  his  master's  very 
feet,  calm  and  unobserved,  he  stalked  out 
into  the  night  from  which  the  other  of- 
fender had  returned.  Silently  the  Super- 
intendent led  the  way  up  the  stair.  As 
they  reached  the  door  of  the  hall  where 
the  men  lay  asleep,  dimly  seen  by  the  low 
lights,  Bracken  shuddered.  The  Superin- 
tendent glanced  at  him  as  if  again  consid- 
ering. 

"Come,"  he  said  finally,  "you  won't 
have  to  sleep  with  the  boys  to-night."  He 
moved  on  to  his  own  room,  where  he  mo- 
tioned toward  an  empty  bed,  stating  briefly 

210 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


that  as  Joseph  happened  to  be  away  it 
might  as  well  be  used.  "  And,"  he  added 
drily,  glancing  at  the  borrowed  plumage, 
"  you  may  as  well  help  yourself  to  one  of 
them  ruffled  nightshirts  too,  and  finish  up 
your  job  neat." 

With  the  manner  of  one  half  dazed, 
Archibald  Bracken  received  and  followed 
his  instructions  ;  but  the  last  sounds  in  the 
Superintendent's  ears  that  night  were  his 
guest's  restless  movements  and  irregular 
breathing. 

Later  in  the  morning,  when  Bracken  rose 
from  his  sleepless  bed  and  dressed  himself 
once  more  in  his  own  clothes,  it  was  only 
to  sit  absorbed  and  silent,  his  gaze  fixed  on 
vacancy,  until  the  Superintendent,  casting 
his  eye  upon  him,  set  him  straightway  to 
active  work.  There  was  enough  to  be  done 
in  the  time  given.  The  hall  where  the  men 
had  passed  the  night  was  to  be  swept  and 
cleaned,  and  the  benches  returned  from  the 
platform  to  their  proper  place  on  the  floor. 
For  the  first  time  Bracken  saw  the  room  by 
daylight.  It  was  large  and  light,  with  win- 
dows cut  in  either  side  wall.  The  spaces 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


between  doors  and  windows  were  papered 
with  inscriptions,  some  taken  from  Scrip- 
ture, others  evidently  the  outpouring  of  an 
original  mind. 

A  square  placard  at  the  head  of  the  room 
bore  the  motto  of  the  work.  It  began  with 
a  large  S.,  the  common  initial  letter  for 
three  words  —  soap,  soup,  salvation.  So 
soon  as  the  room  was  restored  to  order, 
the  men  came  crowding  back  to  take  their 
seats,  waiting  for  the  free  breakfast  which 
they  knew  every  Sunday  morning  brought 
to  them.  The  general  appearance  of  most 
of  the  guests  bore  witness  that  the  "  Soap  " 
of  the  programme  had  been  carried  out,  and 
they  waited  patiently  for  the  next  word  in 
order.  Assisted  by  Bracken,  Joseph,  and 
some  picked  converts,  the  Superintendent 
passed  up  and  down  the  aisles,  carrying 
baskets  of  tin  mugs,  a  boiler  of  coffee,  and 
baskets  of  bread.  When  these  had  been 
distributed  among  the  fasting  men,  when 
the  dry  bread  had  been  eaten,  the  coffee 
swallowed,  and  the  mugs  returned,  that 
which  represented  "  Soup  "  was  also  scored 
off  the  list  as  accomplished.  The  Superin- 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


tendent  began  preparing  the  platform  for 
"  Salvation."  Bracken,  who  had  eaten  his 
morning  meal  with  Joseph,  found  a  seat 
among  the  men  on  a  bench  at  the  foot  of 
the  room.  On  one  side  of  him  sat  a  cleanly 
blue-eyed  young  German,  on  the  other  an 
unmistakable  American,  lightly  built,  with 
nervous  motions  and  eyes  full  half  an  inch 
too  close  together.  His  face  had  been 
refined  ;  it  was  so  still,  though  bearing  signs 
of  wear  that  in  a  garment  would  have  been 
called  tattered.  He  was  disgracefully  rag- 
ged and  soiled. 

The  Superintendent  stood  at  his  plat- 
form desk,  his  Bible  open  before  him.  His 
tried  converts  were  collected  together  on 
the  platform  behind  him.  One  who  had 
proven  musical  sat  before  the  little  melodeon 
against  the  wall,  and  "  Salvation "  began 
with  a  hymn. 

Of  the  singing  and  the  prayers  which 
followed,  Archibald  Bracken  heard  little 
more  than  a  loud  noise  and  a  monotonous 
murmur.  He  did  not  even  turn  his  head 
when  the  Superintendent,  who  was  seated 
at  his  desk  singing  lustily,  suddenly  started 
213 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


to  his  feet,  with  the  opening  of  the  second 
hymn,  his  lips  closing  on  a  word  half  ut- 
tered. Stepping  heavily  from  the  platform 
to  the  floor,  he  made  his  way  quickly  down 
the  aisle,  followed  by  every  eye  in  the  room 
with  one  exception.  Only  when  the  return- 
ing footsteps  passed  him  again  did  Bracken 
look  up.  But  with  that  look  he  almost 
leaped  from  his  seat.  White  as  the  ghost 
of  her  last  night's  self,  her  eyes  fixed  steadily 
before  her,  so  near  that  he  could  have 
touched  her  with  his  hand,  Aline  was  walk- 
ing up  the  aisle,  following  the  Superintend- 
ent to  the  platform. 

"  A  woman  preacher,  I  guess  —  they 
sometimes  visit  us,"  whispered  the  guttural 
German.  Bracken  replied  with  a  savage 
gesture  for  silence.  Aline  had  seated  her- 
self in  the  chair  which  the  Superintendent 
gave  her  and  was  facing  the  room.  At  first 
she  did  not  or  could  not  raise  her  eyes. 
When  she  did,  Bracken  felt  the  shudder 
which  she  repressed  at  the  sight  before  her. 
With  what  seemed  to  him  a  visible  effort, 
she  forced  herself  to  look  down  the  room, 
bench  by  bench,  into  each  separate  face 
214 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


there,  her  own  paling  more  and  more.  One 
further  line  of  those  faces,  depressed,  repul- 
sive, or  suffering,  and  then  would  come  the 
bench  where  he  sat.  He  looked  desperately 
to  right  and  left.  The  next  moment  her 
dilated  eyes  seemed  to  him  to  draw  the  very 
soul  from  his  body.  He  caught  his  breath 
with  a  vague  fear  of  what  might  follow,  but 
she  had  found  what  she  sought  and  sat 
motionless,  her  gaze  fixed. 

In  a  volume  of  sound  the  rough  voices 
rose  through  the  hall,  singing  a  hymn  famil- 
iar to  them  all. 

"Are  you  weary,  are  you  heavy  hearted? 
Tell  it  to  Jesus,  tell  it  to  Jesus; 
Are  you  grieving  over  joys  departed? 
Tell  it  to  Jesus  alone. 

Tell  it  to  Jesus,  tell  it  to  Jesus, 

He  is  a  friend  that's  well  known. 

You  have  no  other  such  a  friend  or  brother. 

Tell  it  to  Jesus  alone." 

The  young  German  at  Bracken's  side  led 

the  chorus  in  a  tenor  so  high  and  true  that, 

her  tense   attention   broken,  Aline's   eyes 

wandered  to  him  once  or  twice,  but  ever 

215 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


returned  again  to  the  face  she  knew  too 
well.  The  Superintendent  rose,  and  the 
preaching  began.  Something  on  the  same 
order,  though  never  quite  like  it,  Archibald 
Bracken  had  often  before  heard,  in  street 
revivals;  but,  watching  Aline,  he  realised 
anxiously  that  this  was  to  be  a  new  ex- 
perience for  her.  As  the  Superintendent 
warmed  with  his  own  words,  her  gaze  fall- 
ing from  the  face  where  it  had  been  fixed, 
was  drawn  to  the  strange  features  of 
one  man  and  another  through  the  room. 
Bracken  saw  this  awakening  interest  with 
an  ever  mounting  uneasiness  that  banished 
thoughts  of  self.  Her  concentrated  atten- 
tion was  what  he  had  least  desired,  now  he 
would  have  given  worlds  to  recall  and  hold  it. 

"  Christ  wasn't  born  in  no  uptown  man- 
sion," the  Superintendent  was  saying. 

He  spoke  quaintly  in  a  vernacular  under- 
stood by  his  listeners. 

They  gave  rapt  attention  to  his  crisp  and 
clipping  phrases. 

"  It  was  to  save  the  homeless  and  the 
lost  that  the  Homeless  came.  To  save  you 
and  me.  Wasn't  I  as  low  as  the  lowest 
216 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


here  when  he  came  and  lifted  me  up  ?  All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  raise  your  hand  like 
this.  Raise  it  high  above  your  head,  out  o' 
the  dirt  and  disgrace,  and  cry,  '  Here,  Lord, 
take  it.  I  can't  stand  alone.'  Then  hold 
fast,  and  the  Lord  will  never  forsake  you. 
That's  what  I  did  in  a  hour  of  agony,  and 
I've  been  walking  with  my  hand  in  his  ever 
since.  Just  the  minute  I  let  go  of  the 
blessed  Saviour's  hand,  down  I  would  fall 
to  where  you  are,  or  maybe  lower,  to  where 
I  was  before.  I  know  myself  as  well. 
Yes,  indeed  ;  the  Lord  and  I  know.  Boys, 
you've  seen  how  comfortable  my  little  office 
is,  —  nice  warm  fire  in  there  ;  chairs  and  a 
desk,  and  a  good  carpet.  I  tell  you,  I  can 
sit  at  that  desk  and  look  acrost  the  street, 
into  the  market  there  where  I  lay  the  night 
before  I  give  up  and  put  my  hand  in  the 
hand  of  the  Lord.  There  I  lay  under  a 
stall,  dirty,  drunk,  covered  with  vermin. 
No  man  had  a  decent  word  for  me,  but  the 
Son  of  God,  when  he  came.  I  never  got  a 
meal  but  with  a  drink  or  '  a  hand  out '  from 
some  door  on  a  crack.  To-day  you  know 
there  ain't  a  man  in  this  street  but  takes 
217 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


his  hat  off  to  me,  '  How  do  you  do,  sir  ? ' 
Even  the  saloon-keepers,  fightin'  them  as 
I  am,  night  and  day,  they  treat  me  civil.  I 
respect  myself  now ;  that's  it.  You  can't 
ask  folks  to  respect  a  man  who  don't  re- 
spect himself.  Lord,  make  these  self-re- 
spectin'  men,  so  that  we  may  respect  them 
as  we  would ! 

"  Men,  what  have  I  to  gain  by  standin' 
here,  day  after  day,  talkin'  to  you  like  this  ? 
Nothin',  nothin'  at  all.  You've  got  to  be- 
lieve I'm  only  working  for  my  God.  Bread 
that's  cast  upon  the  waters,  in  the  hope  of 
return,  only  comes  back  all  swelled  up,  and 
not  fit  to  eat.  I've  seen  that,  time  and 
again.  I  just  stand  here  sowing  the  seeds 
of  his  word  where  they  may  fall.  Lord, 
make  the  harvest  great !  I  tell  you,  it's 
never  too  late  to  rise  and  come  to  him. 
It's  the  Devil  only  that  whispers,  '  Too 
late.' 

"You  can't  be  lower,  and  you  can't  be 
later  in  comin'  to  God,  than  I  was.  '  Come 
unto  me,'  that's  his  word.  He  don't  say 
nothin'  about  too  late,  just,  '  Come  unto  me.' 
He's  always  ready  and  waitin'  for  you.  His 
218 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


arms  is  ever  outstretched.  Strait  is  the 
way  and  narrer  is  the  gate ;  but  it's  always 
open  —  wide  open." 

Archibald  Bracken's  soul  grew  sick  within 
him.  At  these  words,  almost  the  counter- 
part of  those  in  which  Aline  had  spoken  to 
him  of  an  earthly  father's  open  door,  she 
had  turned,  and  her  eyes,  swimming  in 
tears,  sought  his  with  meaning. 

All  this,  to  which  the  men  about  him 
listened  with  more  or  less  emotion,  passed 
by  Bracken  as  the  empty  wind.  But,  as  he 
could  too  plainly  see,  it  was  as  the  breaking 
up  of  the  waters  to  Aline.  With  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  rude  eloquence,  her  colour 
came  and  went.  The  memory  of  her  first 
shrinking  and  horror  was  slipping  away 
from  her.  She  hung  on  the  speaker's  words 
breathlessly,  her  eyes  turning  from  his  face 
to  the  wretched  faces  of  those  with  whom 
he  strove,  as  if  wondering  at  their  delayed 
response.  The  discourse,  kind,  severe,  illit- 
erate, and  strong,  went  on  to  the  close. 

As  he  ended,  the  Superintendent  crossed 
the  platform  to  bend  over  Aline  and  whis- 
per in  her  ear. 

219 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  He's  asking  her  to  speak  now,"  said 
the  German,  settling  himself  to  listen.  A 
rush  of  angry  blood  rose  to  Archibald 
Bracken's  face,  his  hands  clenched  as  he 
saw  Aline  shrink  back,  once  more  the 
startled  woman  who  had  first  entered.  The 
Superintendent  did  not  press  her ;  but 
Bracken  only  breathed  freely  when  he  saw 
him  leave  her  side  and  return  to  his  desk, 
continuing  the  exercises. 

"You've  had  my  testimony,  boys,"  he 
said.  Then,  turning  to  those  at  the  back 
of  the  platform,  "  Who  speaks  next  ?  " 

Joseph  was  first  from  among  the  converts. 
His  brief  testimony  was  given  in  language  as 
broken  as  the  manhood  he  had  almost  lost. 

"  Only  he  who  thirsted  in  the  desert 
knows  how  I  thirsted  for  drink,"  he  said 
simply.  "  My  longing  was  not  to  be 
quenched  until  I  drank  of  the  Blood  of 
the  Lamb,  and  that  washed  it  away.  Praise 
God,  it's  gone.  I  haven't  tasted  liquor  for 
two  years.  I  ask  your  prayers  to  keep  the 
first  drink  away  from  me." 

"  Lord  bless  you  !  "  said  the  Superintend- 
ent as  Joseph  sat  down.  "  That's  it,  boys. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Joseph  knows.  Let  the  first  drink  alone, 
and  you  won't  get  drunk.  Who  next  ?" 

One  by  one  the  converts  on  the  platform 
rose,  each  with  his  own  short,  wretched 
confession  of  the  past  and  his  roused  hope 
for  the  future.  Now  and  then  the  Superin- 
tendent threw  in  a  word  of  warning  to  the 
speaker,  or  called  the  attention  of  the  lis- 
teners to  some  point.  Any  attempt  to 
dwell  on  past  sin  met  his  quick  "  That's 
over,  brother.  Put  it  behind  you.  God 
bless  you  !  Go  on." 

The  repeated  story  of  good  homes  wil- 
fully deserted,  or  of  misfortunes  that 
dragged  down  as  sleuth  hounds,  flowed  on 
sickeningly  to  one  who  heard  such  testi- 
monies for  the  first  time.  Bracken  saw  the 
dark  circles  come  under  Aline's  eyes,  and 
deepen  into  her  white  face. 

The  young  American  by  his  side  sat 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  and  had 
so  sat  for  minutes,  overcome  or  asleep. 

"  That's  all,"  said  the  Superintendent  at 
last.  "  Now,  boys,  you've  heard  "  — 

An  unexpected  voice  rose  from  the  floor 
of  the  hall. 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


"  There's  one  more  would  like  to  speak," 
it  said. 

"  Then  speak  for  the  Master's  sake. 
Stand  and  speak,"  cried  the  Superintend- 
ent. The  young  American  raised  him- 
self, and  stood  falteringly  among  the  seated 
men.  He  grasped  the  back  of  the  bench 
before  him  with  both  hands.  His  face  was 
not  quite  the  same  in  that  his  own  tears 
had  washed  part  of  the  soil  away. 

"  In  the  last  seven  days,"  he  began 
weakly,  "  I  have  suffered  an  agony  beyond 
my  words.  This  is  my  home  city.  I  came 
back  to  it  after  three  years'  absence,  like 
this.  Need  I  say  any  more  ?  In  these 
three  years  I  have  lost  all  I  was  born  to 
have.  I  thought  I  had  forgotten  it  ever 
had  been  mine  ;  and  I  had  forgotten  until 
I  saw  the  old  streets,  and  spent  this  week 
turning  each  corner  like  a  hound,  for  fear 
some  old  friends  or  one  of  my  family  should 
see  me.  I  can't  stand  it.  Last  night  I 
drifted  in  here  and  I  heard  the  prayers.  I 
heard  them  again  to-day.  I  must  begin 
again.  I  scarcely  know  what  has  come  to 
me." 

222 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


He  sank  back  trembling. 

"  God  bless  you !  "  cried  the  Superin- 
tendent. "  You  don't  know,  but  I  do. 
GOD  has  come  to  you.  Hold  his  hand 
fast.  Lord,  keep  him  in  the  hollow  of  Thy 
hand !  Boys,  you've  .heard  both  sides, 
now.  These  brothers  have  showed  you 
what  the  Lord  can  do  for  man.  This  new 
brother  tells  you  what  a  man  does  by  him- 
self in  falling  and  suffering.  Which  will 
you  choose  ?  As  you  sit  there,  I  know 
what  you're  thinking.  You  will,  and  you 
won't;  and  you  can't  decide.  Stand  up 
like  men,  and  choose.  Chances  don't  lie 
around  waiting  for  you,  any  more  than  gold 
does.  You  know  that  Salvation's  gold. 
Take  it  now.  Stand  up  and  raise  your 
hand  to  the  Lord.  Here,  Lord,  take  it. 
Rise  up,  men.  Who  will  rise  and  lay  his 
hand  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord  ?  " 

At  the  back  of  the  hall  one  man  rose 
and  stood. 

"  One,  thank  God  !  "  counteft  the  Super- 
intendent. "Isn't  there  another?  Don't 
stand  up  unless  you  mean  it.  Don't  stand 
up  because  I  ask  you.  Stand  up  to  drop 
223 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


the  past,  and  begin  your  life  over  again,. 
Who'll  do  that  ?  Two,  three,  four,  five, 
six.  Lord  bless  you  all !  Who  next  ?  Can 
only  six  men  in  this  hall  "  — 

He  broke  off,  falling  back  a  step,  one 
hand  still  resting  on  his  open  Bible,  the 
other  half  extended  toward  Aline,  who  had 
risen  and  moved  forward.  Bracken  almost 
groaned  aloud.  How  could  he  stop  her  ? 
From  the  moment  the  young  man  at  his 
side  arose  and  spoke,  he  had  known  just 
what  to  fear.  A  deep  horror,  and  with  it  the 
light  of  a  new  hope,  had  leaped  into  Aline's 
eyes.  From  then  had  she  besought  Archi- 
bald Bracken  desperately,  voice  to  voice  ; 
she  could  have  pleaded  with  him  no  more 
earnestly  than  did  her  expressive  face  and 
eyes,  asking  of  him  the  preposterous,  the 
impossible.  All  this  of  the  emotional  about 
them,  to  him  merely  something  outside, 
fitted  to  those  who  could  or  would  accept 
it,  inspired  her  with  a  compelling  power. 
Before  the  "woman,  not  the  force  which 
moved  her,  Bracken  trembled.  He  saw 
her  standing  above  him  on  the  platform, 
and  his  brain  reeled.  In  a  kind  of  vision 
224 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


he  beheld  her  again  for  a  moment  as  he 
had  last  looked  up  to  see  her  stand  sur- 
rounded by  her  own  kind,  brilliant,  beauti- 
ful, and  protected.  His  impulse  was  to 
rise  from  his  seat,  to  sweep  her  from  the 
platform,  from  this  disgraceful  company, 
this  foul  atmosphere,  actual  and  moral,  to 
her  safe  home.  He  writhed  under  the 
bonds  which  held  him.  Could  he,  a  tramp 
among  tramps,  act  and  not  compromise 
her?  Would  she  compromise  herself  de- 
spite him  ?  Speak  she  should  not. 

Yet  she  was  speaking,  low  and  unstead- 
ily at  first,  then  thrillingly  clear.  The 
room  had  the  silence  of  the  dead  save  for 
her  voice. 

"I  thought  I  could  not  speak  to  you,  but 
I  must.  I  have  a  message  to  deliver  to 
one  of  you.  I  know  you  are  not  all  to 
blame  for  being  here.  Some  one  of  you 
may  be  able  to  repeat  the  very  name  of  the 
wretched  being  who  drove  you  to  this.  It 
is  to  him  I  speak.  Suppose  that  wretched 
creature  were  a  woman  as  I  am,  and  that 
she  learned  what  she  had  done ;  suppose 
her  agony  because  of  it  were  as  great  as 
225 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


your  suffering,  and  she  came  to  seek  you, 
because  in  her  despair  she  had  no  power 
to  keep  away;  suppose  she  stood  here 
before  you  holding  out  her  hands  and  cry- 
ing to  you,  '  Hate  me  forever  if  you  will, 
but  take  the  curse  of  your  ruin  from  my 
life.  I  cannot  bear  it,  I  cannot  carry  it 
and  live.' " 

He  saw  her  arms  stretched  out  to  him  as 
in  the  past  they  had  been  outstretched  a 
hundred  times.  His  spirit  rose,  and  his 
body  followed.  Her  name  had  almost 
escaped  from  his  lips  as  he  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

The  Superintendent  lifted  his  hand  from 
the  Bible,  flinging  it  high  toward  Heaven. 

"  Another  !  "  he  cried.  "  Seven  this  day  ! 
Praise  God  for  the  harvest." 

Archibald  Bracken  staggered  back  at  the 
sound.  For  a  moment  he  faltered,  his  eyes 
fastened  on  the  face  of  the  woman  stand- 
ing motionless  above  him,  her  hands  ex- 
tended, her  eyes,  her  face,  her  lips,  her 
whole  being  calling  him.  With  a  sudden 
calmness,  Bracken  steadied  himself  and 
stood  upright  among  the  counted. 
226 


Links  in  a  Chain. 


Aline's  body  swayed  and  yielded,  her 
face  dropped  in  her  hands.  The  Superin- 
tendent caught  her  arm  and  led  her  to  a 
chair,  where  she  sank  down,  her  face  still 
hidden.  The  doxology  rolled  over  her 
bowed  head  in  waves  of  sound  which  she 
did  not  hear.  The  louder  echoes  of  tramp- 
ing feet  did  not  penetrate  to  her  solitude. 
When  she  moved  at  last,  the  hall  was 
empty  and  the  Superintendent  stood  alone 
before  her,  looking  down  gravely  into  her 
face.  A  bit  of  folded  paper  lay  on  her 
knee,  to  which  he  pointed. 

"  One  of  the  boys  dropped  it  there,"  he 
said,  delicately  turning  away.  "  Sister,  re- 
joice, the  Lord  himself  opened  your  lips 
this  day." 

Her  heart  contracting,  her  hands  shak- 
ing, Aline  lifted  the  paper.  Its  contents 
rolled  from  her  trembling  fingers.  On  her 
knees,  flaming  out  gloriously  in  the  grimy 
room,  lay  the  missing  jewel  of  her  ori- 
flamme. 

THE    END. 


227 


mm 

v-   :..-..  £ 
1 ."-"-""  *• 


